Film Review – Possible Love

November 5th, 2026 | POSTED BY Allen Almachar

Richly layered and quietly devastating, director Lee Chang-dong’s Possible Love (2026) is a study of class division, the intricacies of empathy, and how the bonds between people are created or dissolved. It’s a film that builds slowly – pulling us in gradually until we are knocked sideways by its power. Partially inspired by the great Polish director Krzysztof Kieślowski, Lee (who co-writes with Oh Jung-mi) takes the concept of “Thou Shalt Not Covet” and interprets it through the interaction of two couples on opposite sides of the economic spectrum. What unfolds is an existential web of emotion, ranging from envy, temptation, resilience, and compassion in all its ups and downs. This is the kind of film that resonates long after we watch it – its humanity burrowing into our hearts and minds in profound ways. 

Following in the footsteps of Parasite (2019), No Other Choice (2025), and his own previous work in Burning (2018), Lee’s latest introduces us to characters shaped by their shifting economic circumstances, the clash between a shrinking middle class and an upper class benefiting from it, and whether bridges can be built between the two. Choi Ho-seok (Sul Kyung-gu) was a respected employee at an industrial plant. When a union strike was violently broken up by police, Ho-seok was left hospitalized and without a job. The event turned him into a shell of his former self (those who lost their jobs are described as “the dead”) and resentful of those that kept their positions (described as “the living”). While his wife Anh Mi-ok (Jeon Do-yeon) tries to maintain a positive outlook, it is clear that Ho-seok is in a depressive state he cannot easily escape.

While attending the funeral of one of Ho-seok’s coworkers, he and Mi-ok meet couple Sang-woo (Zo In-sung) and Ye-ji (Cho Yeo-jeong). Sang-woo is a wealthy businessman and Ye-ji is a filmmaker. Ye-ji takes an interest in Ho-seok and Mi-ok’s story, asking them to be subjects of her documentary covering the labor strike and the violence that occurred. What unfolds is an interplay of these four characters, in which their feelings for one another become increasingly complicated. At first, Ho-seok flatly refuses to be interviewed for the documentary, choosing to internalize his pain and anger. Instead, Mi-ok takes his place, discussing their history as a couple, their participation in the strike and how the result of it has affected themselves and their young son, Cheol (Jung Seol). On the flipside, the question of Ye-ji’s motivations to make the documentary remain hazy. How does someone from wealth and privilege tell a story about the working class? What are Sang-woo’s reasonings for supporting Ye-ji’s endeavor, given that the perspective she is trying to tell is one that she may not understand? Are they being truly honest or are they playing a different version of themselves to better align with those of a “lower” class?

The writing/direction soaks the narrative in heavy metaphor and symbolism. Mi-ok’s first encounter with Sang-woo and Ye-ji happens when she accidentally drops her wedding ring – a clear representation of the state of her marriage with Ho-seok. When Ho-seok goes to a bakery to buy a cake for Cheol’s birthday, he notices an employee doing the same thing and decides to follow them. When he sees his former coworker happily celebrating their child’s birthday, the contrast to his own home life is striking. Mi-ok shares a story of seeing a rainbow appear while her mother was washing a car, signifying her view of herself and her standing in life (this idea is further amplified when we see that image repeated later). Ho-seok and Mi-ok are constantly reminded of the strike and their current financial situation every time they interact with Ye-ji and Sang-woo. From the latter couple inviting the former to dinner or a holiday getaway at their fancy seaside estate, the division lines between the four characters are drawn deeper the further things go along. 

In a lesser movie, this dynamic would lead to potential romantic entanglements. While that element is present, Lee has far more pressing matters in mind. Freedom, control, and independence are brought to the forefront. Mi-ok and Ye-ji develop what could be a friendship – but is it a friendship based on common understanding? Does Ye-ji really care for Ho-seok and Mi-ok or does she only see an opportunity to get something out of them? There is a moment late in the movie in which Sang-woo describes swimming in the ocean as a way to feel free. But he fails to recognize that feeling is not shared with Mi-ok or Ho-seok. We are introduced to Ye-ji and Sang-woo’s groundskeeper. Sang-woo reveals that he and the groundskeeper are the same age and used to play with each other as children. Yet, when Sang-woo blows into his cherished childhood whistle, the groundskeeper comes running along ready to fulfill his next request. How can Sang-woo earnestly call this man his friend if he treats him like a lowly servant? Is this the kind of life that Mi-ok and Ho-seok wish for themselves? 

Much of Possible Love’s nearly three hour runtime features Ye-ji interviewing Mi-ok and other former employees that lost their jobs. Kim Ji-yong’s cinematography and Kim Da-Won’s editing places the subjects in medium close up, sometimes having the actor/character address the camera directly. Nearly all the interviews are accompanied by flashback scenes – most of which feature the strike and the government’s aggressive response to suppress it. In the case of Mi-ok, we also travel back to when she was a child, her early courtship with Ho-Seok, as well as where she was at the time of the strike. One of the weaker aspects is how extensive the interviews are and how the interviewees routinely describe what is happening during the flashbacks. The dialogue during these sequences can be seen as too expository. It feels slightly on the nose for Mi-ok to constantly explain everything on screen and her every thought and reaction over it. A lot of what she details can be understood through the visual storytelling. While this was not enough to derail the entire film, these instances do play as the least captivating moments.

The narrative crystalizes in the third act, where everything Lee has been building up pays off in tremendous fashion. All the withheld thoughts, insecurities, regrets, and frustrations come spilling out, resulting in a major shift in the relationships of the four main characters. This is where the performances really shine, as each of the actors get the opportunity to bring out the best of themselves. Ho-seok, who had been so closed off up to this point, finally lets everything come out in an avalanche of pent-up emotions. Sul Kyung-gu plays it as though he can barely keep himself together. Zo In-sung inhabits Sang-woo as seemingly calm, cool, and in control. But when we arrive at the closing scenes, we sense that his meticulously crafted life has cracks coming in from the margins. Cho Yeo-jeong plays Ye-ji with a push and pull of sincerity and compromise. We gather that she started the documentary with honest intentions, but at a certain point she strayed away from the path. The heart and soul of the film belong to Jeon Do-yeon as Mi-ok. Jeon is great in every scene she’s in, juggling Mi-ok’s perseverance, vulnerability, and strength in equal measure. She is what makes the film truly come alive. 

Possible Love is thematically dense and cinematically textured in all the best ways. It invites repeat watches, opening the door for endless conversation and analysis. At the same time, it provides enough subject matter to prevent us from getting lost in the weeds. Lee Chang-dong has crafted a tremendous picture – one that rings of humanity and grace. It accomplishes a great deal without having to strain to get there. Lee takes a specific world with unique characters and expands them so that the impact is universal.

Burning, Cho Yeo-jeong, Featured, Jeon Do-yeon, Jung Seol, Kim Da-Won, Kim Ji-yong, Krzysztof Kieslowski, Lee Chang-dong, No Other Choice, Oh Jung-mi, Parasite, Possible Love, Sul Kyung-gu, Zo In-sung