‘Beach Fictions’ review: A woman’s experiences reshape her day in elegant South Korean time-shift debut

Dir/scr. Lim Hayeon. South Korea. 2026. 145mins

“Falsehood flies,” wrote Jonathan Swift, “while truth comes limping after”. It’s a quote from the early 18th century, but it’s unexpectedly relevant to this contemporary South Korean romantic drama – both in terms of the themes explored and in the elegant literary framework that shapes it. Finding herself the subject of unfounded gossip, grad student Tae-ju (Hansol Park) flees from Incheon to a sleepy coastal resort; the day she spends there plays out twice, the events shifting in response to the different advice that Tae-ju gets from a fortune-teller. This is a supremely assured first feature from Lim Hayeon, a dexterous and absorbing examination of the way rumours can gather momentum and lies can be the engine that powers a whole story, in one direction or another.

 Strikingly stylish filmmaking

The device of rewinding the day to a pivotal key moment has an obvious kinship with Sliding Doors or to give an example closer to home for director Lim, Hong Sang Soo’s Right Now, Wrong Then. But part of what’s intriguing about Beach Fictions is that it’s not so much a single event that changes the course of the day but rather the way Tae-ju’s attitudes and expectations are shifted, subtly impacting on the way she approaches each encounter. But is Tae-ju determining her own story? Or is she a character in a deft literary exercise executed by Ewha (Ye Sujeong), the silver-haired novelist whose voice narrates the film’s opening scenes and who meets Tae-ju by chance on the train to the coast.

Ultimately, perhaps both are true – isn’t a key skill of great writing the ability to imbue a fictional character with a kind of life force? The exact nature of the story being told hardly matters, however, as this is a beguiling piece of filmmaking which, following its premiere in Busan competition, should prove hugely attractive to festival programmers. With critical support, the film could find a home with arthouse distributors or curated streaming platforms.

This is strikingly stylish filmmaking from the outset. A sinuous camera threads its way from a level crossing in the Incheon evening, across the road and into a bar where, after weaving its way through the tables, it finally joins Tae-ju and her friends. But we don’t see her face, just those of the rowdy, oblivious gang who are only half listening to her anecdote and have already decided on their reading of her story. This becomes painfully apparent to Tae-ju, who overhears her ‘friends’ dismissing her as “very good at flirting”. It doesn’t help that her confidence has already taken a knock from an on-off relationship with a boy who won’t commit.

The next morning, she flees. Having encountered the novelist, who tells her that she resembles the protagonist of the book she’s writing, Tae-ju meets Manhyuk (Kim Wookyum), a street magician who dazzles her with a mind-reading trick and gives her a single rose. But when she mentions Manhyuk to her guesthouse proprietor friend, she scoffs and dismisses him as the local gigolo and a former Seoul sex worker. There are common elements in the two parallel versions of the day that follows – the visit to the fortune-teller; a phone dropped into the sea; a beach visit with strangers who happen to be spending time in the same lodging. But the core of both story strands are the subsequent encounters with Manhyuk, to whom Tae-ju finds herself drawn – despite her friend’s warnings.

Lim, who edited the film as well as wrote and directed, approaches what could have been an unwieldy narrative device with a breeziness that is echoed in the picture’s light, airy piano score. And her skill as a storyteller is ably supported by the magnetic performances from her two leads. We are thoroughly invested in these characters and in the electric connection between them. We want the very best for them – whichever version of their story eventually plays out.