Microhabitat

Every time discussions arise about raising the price of cigarettes to discourage smoking, three strands of thought emerge. There are those who don’t see why it should be done, either because they dislike the idea of state interference in the private sector, because they just don’t consider smoking a big deal or because t could hit their own bottom line. There are those who are eager for it to happen because it could reduce suffering and save lives. And there are those who, whilst sympathising with those aims, argue that for the poorest people in society, cigarettes are one of the few available sources of pleasure.

For hardworking housekeeper Miso (Esom), cigarettes and alcohol are the two things that make life worth living. True, there’s sex, which costs nothing, but that’s complicated by work schedules and the lack of suitable places to go. When the price of cigarettes goes up, she simply can’t afford to sustain her modest lifestyle any more, so rather than give them up, she gives up her flat. Microhabitat follows her journey through the city as a homeless person, getting to know it in a new way through her experiences of the old friends she stays with.

Much of the film - which was selected for this year's Fantasia festival - is presented in the form of vignettes. We meet the friend who is struggling herself in an apartment the size of a van; the one who feels that helping Miso would only encourage her in an irresponsible approach to life; the one with the family who smile like the white folks in Get Out. Later, Miso takes a tour of ‘affordable’ apartments that will resonate with viewers in big cities from London to New York; few things can more viscerally express the difference between the haves and have-nots. What really stands out here is that gulf of imagination that makes the experiences of the poor invisible to the better off. Whatever happened to Miso? people wonder. Not having money, she may as well have dropped off the planet.

Miso’s boyfriend dreams of a better future. He may be willing to put his life on the line in pursuit of it – but does that leave room for love? When everything is about hope for tomorrow, what becomes of today? Director Jeon Go-Woon keeps the camera close to emphasise cramped conditions and the emotional pressures they generate, just occasionally drawing back to reveal the sprawling vistas of the city, to remind us how many other people are out there living invisible lives like Miso’s. Microhabitat is an ode to the dispossessed, melancholy and eternal.