In this blog post, I will explore the questions raised by the documentary elements found in fiction films and Kiarostami’s reflective style regarding the writing I intend to pursue.
Reflections on Writing and Novelty
A question I’ve been pondering frequently lately is, “How can I write in a new way?” While novelty is always an important issue in art, I’ve become increasingly preoccupied with finding something new that specifically suits me.
I don’t diligently analyze every published book one by one, nor do I systematically predict what kind of writing will emerge in the future. Instead, I frequently reflect on the style in which I want to write, whether I am repeating the same stories, and whether what I am writing is truly new.
Although my purpose in taking the documentary course was not strictly to achieve innovation in my writing, the course theme of “documentary elements found in feature films” became an opportunity to rethink my writing. In particular, the concept of “reflexivity” discussed in class led me to think deeply about it in relation to my novel’s conception for several days.
At the time, I was brainstorming a novel to submit as a term paper. Even as the deadline approached, no suitable combination of ideas came to mind, so I struggled daily to connect the thoughts that arose in my daily life, the events I experienced that day, and the stories I heard to my novel.
It was during this time that I heard the term “reflexivity” in class, and I immediately began to ask myself what reflective writing actually entailed. The idea that reflection is not merely self-criticism but rather an attitude of “re-seeing” or “re-thinking” particularly resonated with me.
Kiarostami’s Reflexivity, the Koker Trilogy, and Documentary Quality
Abbas Kiarostami’s film ‘And Life Goes On’ follows the director and his son as they search for the two young boys who appeared in his previous film, ‘Where Is My Friend’s House?’. With the road to Koke blocked, crumbling buildings, the sorrow and daily lives of the people they meet along the way, and news of the earthquake coming over the radio, the film meticulously documents the situation in Koke at the time.
The film casually captures various scenes. An elderly man the director and his son meet on the road, a child drinking a warm beverage from a broken display case, vehicles transporting relief supplies, and a child crying in the woods—all these scenes reveal the state of the location and the reactions of the people.
Meanwhile, at a temporary shelter in Koké, a man appears installing an antenna to watch a soccer match. He has lost his family but says, “I can’t just keep grieving.” I got the impression that the scenes where the director asks people questions sometimes serve to ease the dramatic tension.
“And Life Goes On” goes beyond simple documentation to show the point where the director’s own work intersects with reality. The director seeks out the protagonists of his own films, and in the process, prompts the actors and locals to discuss his work. Because of this structure, the entire film naturally takes on a reflective character.
The scenes where the director meets characters from his previous works and discusses the differences between the film’s direction and actual reality are particularly striking. For instance, moments when it is revealed that the house in the film did not actually belong to the person, or when the circumstances behind the staged scenes come to light. Even a minor scene, such as the assistant director bringing a bowl to the grandfather, is recreated within this context of reflection.
In this way, ‘And Life Goes On’, much like Roberto Rossellini’s depiction of the ruins after World War II, strongly reveals documentary elements through its on-site documentary quality and self-referentiality, despite being a fictional film.
Reflexivity, Hypertext, and My Writing
Through my classes and Kiarostami’s films, I have broadened my thinking on reflexive writing. The method of retelling a novel I have written—that is, rewriting a work and creating a structure where the story intertwines with the author’s self—is an approach I have already observed in many writers. However, what interests me is whether this goes beyond simple self-reference to offer a particular attitude or perspective.
Recently, there has been a tendency in the Korean literary scene to emphasize style and form. There are works where the author’s unique prose or form takes center stage over the narrative, and so-called hypertextual works have also emerged, in which stories intertwine and expand interactively.
Kiarostami’s “Where Is My Friend’s House?”, “And Life Goes On,” and “Through the Olive Trees”—the Koke Trilogy—each tell a different story while remaining interconnected, forming a chain that links one to the next. In this regard, I believe these works possess hypertextual elements.
Although reflectivity and hypertext cannot be completely equated, I found myself constantly linking the two concepts while contemplating my writing. I imagined how self-referential devices within a work and cross-references between stories could reveal reflectivity.
In the end, I did not complete a novel with a strong sense of reflectivity for that semester’s assignment. I was not yet confident that my writing style was a “new approach,” so instead, I spent my time translating the images I could focus on into language.
Someday, I want to write a novel rich in reflexivity. To do so, I will need to consciously distinguish it from existing hypertextual and reflexive novels, or find points of connection that differ from them. I also feel that more research and experimentation are needed on how to utilize documentary elements within my writing.
I have briefly reflected on “reflexivity,” the element that has impressed me most in my documentary classes so far. I conclude this essay by organizing the questions raised by the interplay between my thoughts on writing and the documentary characteristics I observed in Kiarostami’s works.
