At first the entire screen is a dull grey, although pretty quickly one can hear voices and the clatter of utensils. As the details of an industrial kitchen slowly become clear, it is apparent that the vacant expanse of grey is actually steam, and that we are watching a small tofu factory at work in rural South Korea. It is a very slow and gentle manner in which to enter a film. That gentle, understated nature continues through the whole two hours.

House of the Seasons is a Korean drama written and directed by first-time filmmaker Oh Jung-min. It tells a remarkable simple story, but it does so with an alluring patience. The film follows the three generations of the Kim family: the elderly grandparents who built the tofu business, the squabbling parents who are inheriting it, and the adult children who struggle to find their own direction in life. It is the sort of quiet family drama with which North Asian audiences are well familiar, whether via Taiwan’s Edward Yang, Japan’s Hirokazu Kore-eda, or any number of directors that have stylistically followed them. Oh’s debut contribution may not bring anything new or innovative to the style, but he is clearly a dedicated student of it. This is a rich and effective work.

While it is largely an ensemble film, House of the Seasons uses third-generation family member Seong-jin (Kang Seung-ho) as an anchor and point of view. He has left home for Seoul and started a uncertain career as an actor in television soaps. Now whenever he returns, he finds himself surrounded by in-fighting. He is clearly his grandparents’ favourite – his grandmother (Son Sook) refuses to turn the air conditioning on until he arrives – and his understated relationship with grandfather Seung-pil (Woo Sang-jeon) forms an emotional core to the film. Woo is absolutely superb as the ailing patriarch, whose declining health and doddering ways are balanced by a fiercely sharpened core.

Between the two generations is a bitter and competitive family of siblings and spouses. Oh’s film tracks their interactions through three gatherings: one in the summer, one in autumn, and one in winter. As the family goes through a group tragedy the petty squabbles become more strident and the knives are proverbially drawn between each of them. The drama is punctuated with humour, some wry and some laugh-out-loud, and always with a warm familiarity. Oh’s script is a very well observed one, and it is well performed too by a cast that includes Cha Mi-kyeong, Oh Man-seok, and Jung Jae-un.

The film is beautifully lensed by Lee Jin-keun, taking full advantage of both the rural setting and the changing seasons. Long takes allow the attractive surroundings to exert full effect on their viewer. Actors are often framed from a long distance, transforming their various arguments and conflicts into irrelevant details. The film generally avoids close-ups, and works that choice to its full advantage. Often the most emotional details are presented as small, subtle punctums in the corner of the screen. When noticed, they have a tremendous effect. This is observant, delicate, wonderful cinema.

House of the Seasons is screening at the 2024 Melbourne International Film Festival. For more information, click here.