Sleep

If you’re fortunate enough to have a healthy sleep experience then the terms gamma-aminobutyric acid and glycine probably won’t mean much to you. If not, you may find yourself thinking about them a lot. They’re the two chemicals that regulate movement during sleep. Whilst most people enjoy a happy medium, at one end of the scale there’s sleep paralysis (as explored in Rodney Ascher’s fascinating documentary The Nightmare and at the other end there’s sleepwalking. A shocking 58% of sleepwalkers exhibit some degree of violence towards themselves or others whilst in that state. This can be very difficult to live with – both for the sleepwalkers themselves and for their loved ones – and it’s a theme explored by Jason Yu in his impressive début film, which has been winning praise all around the world.

‘Together we can overcome anything’ says a wooden sign in the kitchen of sweet-natured couple Hyun-su (Lee Sun-kyun) and Soo-jin (Jung Yu-mi). The two actors have played a couple in three previous films and have an easy chemistry which immediately makes one believe in their relationship. He’s an actor, not terribly successful but patient and persistent; she’s comfortable supporting him and keeps his press clippings on the wall. They have a bright yet cosy apartment which they share with an affectionate little Pomeranian, Pepper. But when Hyun-su starts sleepwalking, this comfortable life faces a serious threat. Soo-jin begins to feel as if, part of the time, she’s living with a stranger.

Mixing horror elements with character study and a tender portrait of a relationship in crisis, Sleep easily slides between genres and, in the process, keeps viewers guessing. Soo-jin’s mother wants to bring in a shaman; there is a suggestion that Hyun-su may be possessed. Do any of us really know who we become in an unconscious state? Hyun-su is used to taking on different personas in the course of his work. Is that so different – and if not, what meta-textual connotations might it have for Lee? Soo-jin, meanwhile, is pregnant – there is literally someone else inside her body. This forces her to think beyond the desire to protect the man she loves, putting her on the defensive, but is she blowing matters out of proportion? How much is she being affected by lack of sleep? Is her condition also making her more vulnerable to misinterpreting events around her?

As Hyun-su attends a sleep clinic and tries out different medication, Soo-jin sits at her computer reading about murders committed by people when they were asleep. New neighbours complain about noises in the night and Soo-jin moves from being bashfully offended to unsettled and desperate. Throughout, Yu frames the apartment simply, cleanly, keeping viewer focus where it needs to be. Small touches like dappled light across a sheet, or the centring of the couple as they snuggle together on the couch with Pepper, reminded us of how simple and beautiful their world could be. When we move into a differently decorated space, with a drastic shift of colours, the effect is dizzying, the perfect accompaniment to a shift in narrative tone.

This is a film made with such confidence that it’s hard to believe it’s Yu’s first work. He has an unusual command of both the framing and the pace, an instinctive understanding of what not to do. The trust he places in his actors is rewarded and the film grips from start to finish. Catch this if you can, because it’s likely to be the first of many impressive works.