Kim: I’m curious about a lot of things. I deliver a lecture in which students submit reviews after watching documentaries in class; there are a lot of students from the fine arts. I find their writing intriguing. They approach to documentary in a totally different perspective.

BOL: Yes, I’ve heard that you also lectured at the School of Film, TV & Multimedia, Korean National University of Arts. I have suggested to you that I want to run this interview in a similar format to that of the making film of Repatriation (Songhwan) 2. Before going into that, I want to ask you a question about the Repatriation DVD. The VHS tape came out first, but the DVD came out last year, two years since the movie’s premiere. Did you choose to distribute it through PURN (Blue Image) Productions rather than using a general distribution system primarily because of the issue of censorship?

Kim: No, it’s more about having to get it rated by the committee than about having it censored. But I refuse my work to be rated by the committee because in order to get my work, a non-commercial work made by following my conscience, rated, I need to pay more money. I think they charge about ten percent or something. More at stake than the money is my self-respect. The review is also an extension of censorship that was done in the past, and we have gone through so much in the past, so we have aversion to it. I’ve never had my work reviewed and sent it to a general video store yet.

BOL: Since it came out with an English subtitle when it was submitted to the Sundance Film Festival and it was reviewed by the committee, I thought the DVD will come out as it is.

Kim: The first time Repatriation got reviewed was when it was premiered at the theater. Even then, originally I expected it to get Suitable for All Audiences rating. There’s nothing problematic about the film, isn’t it? But it was rated as Suitable for All Audiences 15 and Over. I had to fight them to make it come out with Suitable for All Audiences 12 and Over. The issue is not about how many people watch it or not; I cannot agree with the standard of the Korea Media Rating Board. And the dealers are not interested, either. Who would rent it out at a video store? (laughs) A few people might feel a bit uncomfortable…

BOL: That’s why you are requesting to look at movies not only as an industry but also as a culture in addition to speaking about the need of theaters used exclusively for independent films.

Shortly after I heard the good news that you are preparing for Repatriation 2, I was surprised to read that the reason why the production had to be suspended temporarily. There was an explanation about the political situation that makes the second repatriation difficult.

Kim: In fact, the production of Repatriation 2 was not interrupted just by such outside circumstances. There are a few reasons that I cannot talk about. So to speak, they are not such a good thing to talk about; it’s about the internal situation of PURN Productions. Besides, the film can be completed without the second repatriation happening, and I have also expected that the repatriation might not take place. The directing of Repatriation 2 was supposed to be done by a friend who was the assistant director of Repatriation, but something came up for my friend, so I was thinking of directing. But then, I soon got a new project, so as I was focusing on that, Repatriation 2 is temporarily dormant, so to speak. I think I would have time to direct it starting from next year. Even now, I meet people who have not been deported yet and if I can shoot, I do that as well. I haven’t cut off my interest completely yet, but as of now, other films are on my priority list.

BOL: I started to take more interest in Repatriation 2 because I heard the assistant director of Repatriation 2 was a woman. I expected that the sequel might start with Mr. Kim Young-sik, who was on the Repatriation poster. Director Yim Soon-rye wrote an article that empathized with the director’s unique perspective on Mr. Kim Young-sik, and many other people also interpreted it that way. I thought that this time you would attempt to focus on the singularity of an individual.

Kim: Mr. Kim Young-sik would be the protagonist, but my initial plan was to tell the story of those who are in Pyeongyang, those who went to Pyeongyang. Mr. Kim Young-sik was in Jeonju – a lot of people who converted live in Jeonju. Mr. Kim moved from Jeonju to Seoul, and I wanted to talk about what the people who are still in Jeonju are doing right now. Their life is very miserable. Some are homeless; there are so many things to talk about. There was an abundance of characters. So I was building it in good shape until something came up so the assistant director friend had to drop out.

BOL: Among the people who were presented on Repatriation, it seems like you were very fond of Mr. Cho Chang-son who went to North Korea. Are you still in contact with him?

Kim: Well, direct contact is impossible. I need to meet him regardless of my work, but I couldn’t go to North Korea for about two to three years. Ever since the restriction was eased, I constantly looked for the opportunity to go, and finally, two years ago, I went there with difficulty, to attend the [two-month long] Arirang Festival. In fact, I’m not supposed to say this, but originally there was no time assigned to meet with the long-time prisoners. Ministry of Unification in South Korea attached the condition that I will not meet with them. That’s how hard it was to meet with them. When I finally met them, about fifteen people, including Mr. Kim Sun-myung, came out. Before I arrived in North Korea, I heard that Mr. Cho Chang-son is ill, but he didn’t come out on that day. So I asked other people about him, and the only thing I could hear was that he has recovered and that he was discharged from the hospital. I don’t know the reason why he didn’t come out – whether it was because of tourism or whether it was some other reason. Other people told me that he went to a sanatorium. Whether he went there, or stayed at home, or couldn’t come because of some other reason, I was not able to confirm.

BOL: Then I guess it would be difficult to make another opportunity. I heard that there are twenty-nine people waiting for the second repatriation.

Kim: That’s why I tried to make some connection with the North Korean representatives at the Korean Council for Reconciliation and Cooperation at that time, so that I could send a proposal and ask for their permission to shoot a film. However, the relationship between North and South was really bad last year, so I ended up not hearing back from them. The only thing I’ve heard was who had passed away. Mr. Kim Suk-hyung, who was one of the first two people I met, passed away last year. Among thirty-three people, four had passed away, and another one was added to that number. Now I think there are about twenty-eight people. Among them, one person didn’t petition for repatriation and four did, as far as I know. There are some in Jeju and some in Gwangju – they are scattered over many different areas. I don’t know whether the South-North Korean Summit Talk will be possible, but there is the possibility that they might be suddenly repatriated during that process. But the second repatriation cannot be determined solely by the South-North relationship. It’s more complex than that because they have converted. From the North’s perspective, they cannot give them equal treatment. The more I think about the problem, the more complicated it is, which makes me worried. Even at the beginning of last year, Chung Dong-young (Minister of Unification at that time) said many times that he will send them by February, by March, so a lot of right-wing organizations in the South opposed it. It was hard last year, and at this point, from my perspective, I think the possibility is getting slimmer. The hope is disappearing like this… Some people had already packed their belongings at that time. Some of them even divorced with the wives with whom they lived here in order to leave for North Korea – they were pained by despair when they couldn’t’ leave. But now, they are in a tranquil state. Maybe they have already given up.

BOL: In one of the interviews in 2001, you said that “the purpose of documentary is making progress.” What kind of progress, or a step ahead, do you think Repatriation 2 can make from there?

Kim: Well, if you are talking about its form or level of completion, I didn’t think about such things. Until now, I only thought about changing the narrator – if I can go shoot my film in the North, then I wanted to take the role of the narrator, leaving the rest of the work to be told from the perspective of the assistant director. I thought of layering a man’s voice over a woman’s in the middle of the film.

When I used the word “progress,” I meant it in a very ordinary way, hoping things to get better little by little. If documentary is a statement, it is so because there is some kind of dissatisfaction. I think it is a statement tinged with hope, suggesting that it would be better for the world to look like this. In other words, the statement saying that I miss Mr. Cho Chang-son could also mean that I hope the South-North relation gets better. I don’t know, a lot of people think that documentary should be objective, but I don’t think it can be. Would you be able to make a documentary without thinking that there is something you want to say, feeling that something is missing and wishing that something could change?

BOL: It would be hard to say that the world is getting worse because the making of Repatriation 2 has been suspended, or because those who have not been repatriated might pass away within five or ten years. But do you think that waiting and being patient is included in the meaning of progress?

Kim: Of course not. A lot of it is my fault. If I had a stronger sense of duty, I think I would have fought more and exhausted myself to make Repatriation 2 happen. I think I have loosened up a bit. There were so many things that distracted me after Repatriation ended. I distributed it and went to a lot of film festivals and screening meetings abroad. I acknowledge that I had been lazy. I think it’s my fault that I was not able to play an important role. I know this sounds obvious, but I think I get lazier as I get older.

BOL: These days, I see a lot of people who gather around a small community to pursue a common good beyond religious divisions. In the up-coming presidential election in the United States, religious authorities are gathering to argue that something must be done – their political power is enormous and here in Korea, we are going through a similar situation. However, on the other hand, aren’t there also people within the Christian and Buddhist communities who have rejected aggrandizement and fought for the urban poor and migrant workers? Recently, I’ve been hearing words such as “liberation theology” and “people’s theology” – words that were hard to be heard since the year 2000. When you recently said that you want to meet Father John V. Daly¹, I thought that it must be related to that.

Kim: Of course there is a connection. Originally, I was lazy and didn’t have any class consciousness. Rather, I was closer to an extreme rightist, at least before the early 80s. Well, maybe not an extreme right-wing, but more like an aggressive liberalist. But as I became influenced by the 80s, I started having many doubts. Then I met Father John V. Daly, while hearing about the collision in Sanggye-dong between the police and the people who were to be evacuated from their house. I talked about this many times in other media as well, but Sanggye-dong was an incident that almost changed my entire outlook on life and film; but I guess I haven’t talked about Father Daly that much. It was a very difficult and painful period in my life and I was deeply entrenched in religion back then. I had a lot of doubts on religion, and when I met Father Daly, I was able to establish my outlook on religion.

What Father Daly said can be summarized as saying, “the poor is happier.” What that means is that because you are poor, you can feel God closer, be more sensitive in your relationship with people, and see the world more clearly. The bible says that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. It means that you should cast everything aside. It means that we can either go to Heaven or see this world more clearly only if we give up our vested rights.

Back then I was a bachelor and I deeply sympathized with it. After experiencing how liberating it is to live with less, I could live such life with a clear conscience. I could live life with vigor even though I slept in a tent and only ate ramen. But you change, of course, after ten, twenty years. Whenever I feel like I’m loosing myself, I meet up with Father Daly, and if not him, there are still a lot of people who live like him, so I try to meet with them, if occasionally.

When I said I want to meet Father Daly, it didn’t necessarily mean that I’m going through a particularly hard time. I just wanted to meet him. He’s also become weak now. He was very hurt from people, including the Sanggye-dong evacuees. He’s not a warrior-type of person who has a strong will. He gets hurt easily and is spiritually very full. He also has a weak side. That’s why he went back to the countryside. He left the city to discover a new possibility rather than to organize a peasant movement, so to speak. Although he’s almost considered as an abandoned child by them, he still belongs to a monastic order, so he needs to play a certain role there. That’s why he came up to Seoul again after seven or eight years. Since then, he hasn’t been doing much outside.

BOL: Did he finish making the Bokumjari Community [in Gyeonggi Province] then?

Kim: That’s many years before. He moved from Bokumjari Community to Sanggye-dong. Father Daly is more than my mentor or teacher; he’s a good person to be with. I don’t know, maybe I might do a confession when I meet with him (laughs), but I have a lot to tell him and ask him.

BOL: When I heard about the fire that broke out at the Yeosu Immigration Controls Office (a detention center that holds non-Korean undocumented workers) last February, I was reminded of your film Jongno, Winter from the omnibus movie If You Were Me, sponsored by The National Human Rights Commission. It dealt with the death of Korean Chinese migrant workers. I wonder whether or not you were attacked by the images of the evacuees or the lives and bodies of converted / non-converted long-term prisoners.

Kim: Well, I guess I learned from the Sanggye-dong incident. It’s scary to think about what would it be like if I were in that condition – getting beaten and having your house razed. But at one point, when I was actually in that kind of situation, I wasn’t scared anymore. There was still the fear about the worst situation, but at least the fear that I imagined in my head was gone, because it happened to me. This might be over-extending it, but I don’t think that facing that kind of extreme situation, whether voluntarily or not, is necessarily a bad thing. Of course, the long-time prisoners get their nails pulled out and tortured with water, so there’s still a lot of fear about that, but I think when I’m actually in that situation, as I have once said in the documentary, “fear will be gone and obstinacy will arise.” (laughs) In other words, I think if there’s something you lose, there’s also something you gain. Of course, even if you think that way, things can get more fearful, which is why some people choose to convert. If there’s a difference between those who converted and those who didn’t, it’s about what choice they made at that crucial moment. There are people who converted before going through all that, but the difference between those who converted before or after those things is very slim, like a sheet of paper - you know about it. But whether you choose this or that side is a matter of each second. Of course those images recur, and it’s horrible. But if it’s something I need to accept, then I can. When that moment comes, I’d either be dead or alive, one way or the other, right? (laughs) In other words, if you think about those things a step away, it’s horrifying, but if you actually find yourself in that situation, the fear goes away, and even though there’s pain, there’s also that something else.

I experienced that a few times. The gangsters at the evacuation site are very scary, but once I encountered them, once I had them grab me by my throat, I wasn’t afraid of them anymore. When I was living in a tent after the house was torn down, there was a constant rumor that the gangsters will come and rip off the tent. It was during winter, so everyone was worried about how to live if the tent is ripped off in this kind of weather. And then finally, the tents were torn away. Of course the inhabitants were all crying, but soon everyone was saying that “well at least now we don’t have to worry about having our tents destroyed.” I don’t think that kind of situation always gives a certain fixed image. The way you take certain situations depends on each person. I thought that man is indeed a mysterious being.

During the editing process, there were scenes that aroused fits of anger in me. Do you remember the scene [in my documentary] Sanggye-dong Olympics in which a high school student wails while watching his house being torn down? I didn’t know that feeling when I was shooting it. The kid saw his mother getting beaten and went there to save her, but they were beaten together. Although he didn’t get hurt that much, but what kind of injustice must he have felt? I think that feeling of being falsely accused is more terrible and makes one more angry than physical pain. Although anger or feeling that we’re being wronged is in our nature, I think it gets bigger and bigger once you become conscious of your rights.

Back in the days, teach-ins took place a lot, in which people talked about how to moderate that kind of anger. It’s not entirely wrong, but the anger one feels by being treated unjustly has an enormous energy – while it can produce a major disaster if it’s digested in a wrong way, when it’s digested positively, it can make you grow a lot. In that sense, I think poverty is another form of energy. Of course you can become imprisoned or become an alcoholic if you’re poor and ostracized, but if you digest it well, it give you the power to look at the world with a truly generous heart. Among the non-converted long-term prisoners, although it’s hard for me to make a generalization, there are people who are very eccentric, who have a lot of victim mentality, or people who have a very big heart. I think it’s more plausible that they have changed like that through afflictions rather than being born that way.

BOL: How do you think that the audience’s cultural literacy is changing? If Repatriation was for the young generation who grew up without having received excessive anti-communist education, then who would you assume to be the future audience for Repatriation 2? Would it be a few prepared, selective audience?

Kim: Yes, I understand what you’re trying to say. But I’m not a unification activist, I don’t have a grand belief, and I’m very weak theoretically. (laughs) I think on a common level, when I see a movie, if there’s a reasonable plot, it’s possible to communicate something. I didn’t work thinking about people who might be adverse to it. I rather wanted to talk to the 386 generation² whose life has changed a lot. I made an effort to make the movie more soft and enjoyable rather than trying to solve the aversion some might feel. I guess it means the same thing… (laughs)

When I look at the audience’s response – it was during the screening in France – there was a French who said, how did you make this kind of movie, isn’t this a communist film? On the other hand, in Korea, the journalist at the Chosun Ilbo [a daily newspaper which leans politically to the right] wrote a favorable review. In other words, depending on the degree of aversion or stereotypes, different responses might have emerged, and each view is slightly different from the other. Those with a rightist tendency want to see it as a humanist drama, and if it’s in that state, they say they like it, but people who are far away on the other side say that there’s no grounds for evaluation. While a progressive movie magazine such as Cine 21 gave five stars to the movie, there were people who gave none or wrote a review in five Korean letters, such as ‘a communist movie,’ or ‘a five empty cans.’ Of course, I can’t trust every single response they show. Despite it, I think there could be a certain repercussion, and even if somebody raved about it, I would still have doubts and confusion about his opinion.

It’s not like I have a big heart; I can’t always make a movie well or satisfy every single audience. As I’ve said in the movie that “I’m a bit of a progressionist, but I’m also a liberalist,” just on that level, although there are parts in which I expressed myself modestly that I’m a perfectly normal, non-activist type of person, I have made efforts to avoid making the movie boring. I don’t think I did that in order to repress certain aversion. I hope a documentary to move someone’s heart, but a person can’t change entirely just because he saw one. If there’s a certain echo while watching the movie, or a few hours or a few days after having watched it, I think that can move someone’s heart. Do you think a few decades’ worth of life can change just by watching a movie one or two hours? My father crossed the border to South Korea (during the Korean War): he came down after getting his house and land confiscated and all his friends went through the same situation. Although he wouldn’t have said it in my face, he acknowledges things that should be acknowledged. What wrong have those people done, Kim Il-sung is the bad guy, although this can be discouraging, it’s possible (laughs), it was entertaining – those were his responses. In other words, he wasn’t angry that much, and I think I can’t because I didn’t hate them. If I have made it in the 80s style, they could have been really upset. But I’ve changed a little from the 80s and because my tendency was not like that originally, they weren’t sensitive. Rather, it was me who were sensitive towards them (laughs), worrying about what would they think if they watch this movie…

One of the long-term prisoners told me that if he were to grade the movie, he could give it B, but the responses varied. Some said “it’s a really good movie” in public, while saying to me in person, “hey, don’t you think that scene is too weak?” Others have said, “It was boring. What was that?” Mr. Kim Young-sik didn’t say anything, but he liked it. Although he wasn’t educated, he says this kind of story needs to be recorded. His existence is like a jewel for people who do documentaries. He doesn’t act hypocritically in front of the camera; on the other hand, he makes us feel comfortable by asking, “hey, is there anything I can help?” He’s not restless, either.

BOL: While we highly respect Kim San and others who have struggled and died for Korean independence from the Japanese rule during the 30’s, you made us imagine the people whom nobody remembers – “the non-educated” revolutionists who have supported their leaders. Some of political prisoners in your documentary were captured and imprisoned for a long time as soon as they landed from the ship from North Korea.

Kim: In my view, Mr. Kim Suk-hyung is an educated one. There are political agents and messengers – the messengers are Mr. Cho Chang-son and Kim Young-sik; Mr. Kim Suk-hyung was an agent. An agent needs to be eloquent and fully armed with ideology. I was close to those who were messengers. There are also people whom I respect among those who were agents, but in some cases they were a bit boring (laughs), or there was a sensitive part such as discrimination between the two.

BOL: What do you think about people who point out about why you don’t treat other stories, such as North Korea’s human rights, as an important issue? Last year, Yoduk Story, the musical that dealt with North Korea’s political concentration camp, was staged in controversy – it was started as a project undertaken by a Pole director based on the request of the Thorolf Rafto Foundation for Human Rights, headquartered in Norway. Director Chung Sung-san, who was suggested to make it into a play, staged it as a musical.

Kim: There’s a reference to that in the movie. That’s why I talked with my Japanese friend, Jiro Ishimaru, about the meeting of the people who were kidnapped to North Korea. Ishimaru is a friend whom I’m very fond of – he’s become quite famous now. He is working in Japan as a specialist in North Korean-related issues. According to what he says, the situation is really bad. There’s a German doctor who’s always mentioned whenever there’s an article about the political concentration camp and the rally of the rightist groups presented by the media such as Monthly Chosun. When there’s an article that he was kicked out after doing medical activities in North Korea, I search the article and read it. Personally, I also read about the human rights issue or the corruption of the ruling class in North Korea. North Korea really needs to change. I don’t think we can really feel the human rights issue, no matter how persistently we cling onto it. Of course, some are exaggerated, but despite it, I don’t think we can directly feel it.

When I look back at the things I directly saw in the North, there’s a boy I saw near Myohyang Mountain, about two hours away by car from Pyeongyang. He looked around ten years old, and he was walking. But since the last village we saw was a few kilometers away, and the next one is still far away, it means the boy has been walking a few dozen kilometers. They said it’s a common scene. Because there’s no car, no gasoline, it has become daily life to walk such a long distance. Their faces are dirty, and they nearly look like the homeless. Such little kids keep walking, carrying something heavy on their backs. Just looking at the boy, one can feel how dehumanizing the people’s life situations are. Whether it’s a few ten thousand or a few million, the fact that they all died of famine shows the severity of the situation. I think it’s so obvious that we need to change North Korea for their sake. We need to acknowledge things that need to be. However, there are also cases in which you make a fight grow bigger by trying to stop it. In my view, what the rightists talk about North Korea can justify the ruling class of North Korea even more. In other words, that’s what Bush is doing right now. ‘See, there’s the threat from the U.S., so now you should listen to what I say.’ That’s how the hard-liners in North Korea are receiving stronger support. The last resort they can take is war, but I don’t think war can be a solution to the problem, just by looking at the case of Iraq. And even if the people stay safe and only the ruling class gets removed, the people have no ability to live in North Korea. I think the only way is to change them gradually. Even Yoduk Story, either by the media in our side, or the media in North Korea, is playing the role of strengthening the North’s position, regardless of whether the person who made the musical intended it or not. So does that mean let’s just see what happens (laughs)? Of course not.

In the past, Suh Jun-shik (a former political prisoner) said something like this. I heard him say, “Someone should go to North Korea and tell them, risking his life, even if I go there and tell them I might be dead there. But there’s no one better than me to go.” They still might not change after that. But I think that’s the most violent way. Although I didn’t directly tell the non-converted long-term prisoners, the reason I tried not to mention about the area is because I thought that maybe they could say something positive about South Korea and do some critique on North Korea, at least second-handedly. The only memory in their minds is North Korea before the 70s, but if they go back in the 2000s, there’s surely going to be something different, and since they are in the position to give critical advice to the upper class, I think it’s a reasonable expectation to have. I don’t know whether they did so. Maybe one or two people might have. Not everyone, but there are always at least one or two people who say the right thing. (If there has been someone like that) I don’t know what had happened to him, but I think there’s also something problematic about just giving everything. It’s not just an economic problem. I think it’s a positive thing that such atmosphere is being incorporated into North Korea through China, through the Korean-Chinese. But I hope North Korea’s change does not necessarily happen in the way South Korea’s change occurred. If there’s no alternative, then I guess there’s nothing to be done, but for example, I wish they could change in the Cuban or another way. But, that might be wishing too much considering the current situation of North Korea. In my view, if there is to be a change, I think it should happen from within – even though many people get hurt, they need to do it on their own, a revolution, so to speak. I don’t think foreign forces should intervene. Then, things get very complicated.

That German doctor, he’s a very famous doctor, but I can’t remember his name. He [Dr. Norbert Vollertsen] is such a naïve person. He’s thoroughly being exploited by the right wing. I heard about him from Ishimaru that he’s too ‘over-reacting’ right now. I can’t say much about Yoduk Story because I haven’t seen it, but if there’s something in it that moves people’s heart, I think that’s a good thing. I guess I would watch it with a certain awareness, but I think a good body of work can move people’s heart, whether it’s made by a right wing or left wing. To be honest, I didn’t watch it because I thought it would be expensive – these days, musicals are expensive, aren’t they? (laughs) I think if they really think that the story of Yoduk should be told, I think if I were them, I would have used a more active approach, such as doing it on a sports arena, for example. In my case, I still do screenings on tour; I went to schools many times. Since it’s a musical, wouldn’t it be possible to film it and distribute it?

BOL: Director Andrzej Fidyk from Poland made a documentary after visiting North Korea in 1988. At first, I heard it was welcomed by North Korea, as Daniel Gordon’s documentary A State of Mind, but I heard that later he was denied re-entry into North Korea.

Kim: Daniel Gordon didn’t go to North Korea because he liked them or because he was close to them. It’s complicated, but whoever goes to North Korea is attracted to North Koreans, because they are so innocent and preserve a spirit that cannot be seen in a capitalist society. But from the standpoint of a filmmaker, there are so many limitations, and it’s hard to accept the working condition in which every tape is censored. I don’t think documentary directors tell the story exclusively based on what they saw and felt. They also need to consider the political effect their work might cause, the hospitality shown to them, and behave courteously. I think Daniel Gordon did those things well. On the other hand, naïve people now have more desire to expose certain things. There are a plentiful documentaries on North Korea. There’s some made in Denmark and some in Australia, and they are popular in foreign film festivals. The broadcasting station buys things related to North Korea by paying a high price. When I look at the documentaries about North Korea, it’s not like their critical viewpoint itself is bad; there are too many things that are common sense. The work is not done well. It’s because you can make money if you shoot it. People think it’s better if there are more films about North Korea, but it’s hard to shoot. People have such strong stereotypical views, and they should go there knowing that they might not be able to shoot things they wanted to. Those people who complain that they weren’t allowed to shoot certain things can mean that they lack understanding about North Korea.

BOL: Are there a lot of people like that?

Kim: In my view, it’s a loss. If the purpose of making a documentary about North Korea was to sell it to a broadcasting station, then that person can never do it again. And even the documentary that comes out cannot survive, no matter how strong the criticism is, if it lacks the finality as a work of art. Eventually, it loses its value as a work of art and fails to make money. Such case might suggest that it lacks a vocational professionalism (laughs). There are also directors like Daniel Gordon who criticizes when it’s needed, while continuing to make good works at the same time.

BOL: The German photographer Andreas Gursky visited North Korea twice in 2005 and took the Arirang Festival photos. He recently held an exhibition in Munich. I think he delivers a certain visual awe to people beyond looking at mass gymnastics as a one-dimensional object of interest.

Kim: Although I dislike mass gymnastics, Arirang Festival is terrifying, but at the same time, so magnificent. I was surprised, thinking that, ‘Ah! I guess human’s ability can be stretched this far.’ You’re completely overwhelmed when you watch it. You also feel horror at the same time. But surely enough, after watching it, I can’t help but say, ‘I really hate that’ (laughs).