The Day After (2017)

The Day After is the kind of small, sharp pleasure that turns everyday awkwardness into something quietly exhilarating, unfolding like a conversational chess match where every pause and polite smile carries weight. Hong Sang-soo builds an amusing, diverting comedy of errors out of office corridors, chance encounters, and Rohmer-esque dialogue that feels casual until you realize it’s cutting straight to the bone. Kim Min-hee anchors the film with a performance of lucid vulnerability, letting regret and self-possession flicker across her face in ways that say more than any confession could. It’s not for viewers craving big romantic fireworks or neat moral verdicts, but if you like intimate dramas that find humor in human messiness, this one lingers like a thought you can’t quite shake.

The Day After is aiming for a quiet, talk-heavy relationship drama about misunderstanding, guilt, and the messy fallout of office romance, and it does have a certain raw, lived-in mood. But it can feel slight and undercooked, circling the same emotional beats until the repetition starts to outweigh the insight. The story’s mix of melodrama and philosophical chatter may come off more like noise than depth, and the narrative can seem convoluted without delivering a satisfying payoff. If you’re not in the mood to spend a lot of time with a miserable male lead and ambiguous conversations, this one may test your patience—even if you appreciate its low-key, observational style.