‘Nowhere To Lay My Eyes’ review: Hong Sangsoo’s latest proves sparse, minor-key family drama

Dir/scr. Hong Sangsoo. South Korea. 2026. 72mins

The unpredictable weather of South Korea’s Jeju Island is harnessed as a metaphor for the unsettled relationship between Sang-hee (Kim Minhee) and her semi-estranged mother (Kwon Haehyo). When, after a 10-year absence, Sang-hee – accompanied by younger brother Sang-won (Shin Seokho) – leaves her home in Seoul to visit Jeju, there’s a veneer of politeness during their stay. But Sang-hee’s dry voice-over suggests that the distance between the family members is perhaps unbridgeable. The latest picture from Hong Sangsoo, Nowhere To Lay My Eyes revisits familiar themes – two of the characters are filmmakers; soju is consumed – but feels like a minor addition to the prolific director’s over-stuffed CV.

May find it tricky to engage audiences beyond Hong completists

The film reunites Hong regulars Kim Minhee and Choi Myeonggil, whose previous film together was 2024’s By The Stream, also a Locarno premiere and Golden Leopard contender. That film earned Kim Minhee the festival’s prize for Best Actress and the film picked up two further gongs, including Best Picture, at the Gijon International Film Festival. In contrast, Nowhere To Lay My Eyes seems too modest in scope to match its predecessor’s awards haul. The film has sold to Cinema Guild in North America, but may find it tricky to engage theatrical audiences beyond Hong completists.

Although the director has a loyal following, particularly within the festival programming community, in this case it’s Kim Minhee who is perhaps the film’s main asset and selling point. She’s quietly fascinating as a woman who has clearly brought a fair amount of baggage with her on her trip to visit her mother, who has maried Sang-hee’s stepfather (Choi Myeonggil) and made a success of her restaurant business. Sang-hee’s matter-of-fact narration gives details of the weather – windy, slightly overcast with glimpses of sunshine – but reveals plenty in the way she refers to her step-father (“that man”).

There’s a moment of tension, too, when her mother lets slip that the Sang-won has already visited the island; something that, for reasons which are left hinted at but unexplained, her mother decided should be kept secret from Sang-hee. But mainly the encounters – some of which are static and shot with Hong’s characteristic locked, long takes and others which follow the characters as they explore the island – are seemingly banal.

There’s an exchange of awkwardly personal compliments about skin tone. Her children, the mother insists forcefully, inherited their flawless complexions from her, rather than her divorced first husband. Sang-hee, who works at a snack importing company to make ends meet but makes introspective, personal short films as a creative outlet, interrogates her step-father, a documentary director involved in a lengthy project about ‘grass tombs’, about the ethics of non-fiction filmmaking. Her step-father’s clingy daughter, whom Sang-hee is surprised to discover lives with her mother and step-father, is keen to establish a friendship and a creative kinship, having recently taken up painting. Sang-hee recoils very slightly from the gushing overtures.

Mainly, the visit seems to give Sang-hee’s mother an opportunity to attempt to micromanage her daughter’s life. By the second day, she is already suggesting that Sang-hee quit her job to move to Jeju and take over the restaurant business. It’s no wonder, perhaps, that Sang-hee prefers life in Seoul and has left such an extended period without seeing her mother.

This is sparse filmmaking even by Hong’s usual standards. Music, composed by the director, is jangling and slightly discordant. But the most notable aspect in the film’s sound is the buffeting wind that, at times, threatens to drown out the dialogue altogether. The mother is at pains to show off the comfortable life she has made for herself, but there’s something slightly inhospitable about this island and its mercurial moods.