COUNSEL CULTURE

A “canceled” public figure is thrown back on herself and what remains of her once-successful life, befriended only by a stray cat and a lost little girl.

In this near-weightless tale of the heaviness of living, Haesoo Lim, a former psychotherapist and regular TV guest, walks the nighttime streets of her South Korean town, lost in a fog of confusion after the disintegration of her marriage and the ending of her career. After her (scripted) negative comment about a popular actor is held responsible for the man’s suicide, public opinion turns against her. Passing through her local park’s cones of streetlight and more-soothing shadows, Haesoo carries with her a letter she will never mail, destined, like others she’s written to various people in her life, for the park’s garbage can. Haesoo’s story is revealed to us remotely, tentatively, akin to the way she herself moves around the neighborhood and to the way many of the block’s frightened street cats eye her. One scruffy orange cat in particular piques her interest. It’s been named Turnip by a local child, 10-year-old Sei, who befriends Haesoo. Gradually, the reality of Sei’s empty home life brushes up against Haesoo’s sad wanderings, which in turn brush up against Turnip’s struggle for survival: a triangle of characters locked into each other’s fate, each looking for relief, for a lasting home. Melancholy and ruminative yet possessed of a quiet energy, Kim’s tale leads Haesoo toward the realization that, more often than not, what we yearn to be is who we already are, that life is less a matter of becoming than of revealing. While her lawyer flatly tells her that one can’t trust people, that “kindness is the first to go when luck changes,” Haesoo reaffirms to herself a truth she has known for some time as a counselor: Goodness and growth are impossible “without leaning on kindness and empathy.” Despite everything, she has not lost, and must not lose, this faith.

A simple, moving story of outcasts coming together.