Jeon Go-woon’s debut film MICROHABITAT (소공녀) literally translates as ‘Little Princess,’ with the filmmaker likening his protagonist Mi-so to the title character in the Frances Hodgson Burnett novel. Like that character, Mi-so suffers from financial hardships but still manages to be a shoulder for her friends’ own hardships.
Mi-so (Esom) works on less than minimum wage as a housekeeper. Her three anchors in life are whisky, cigarettes, and her boyfriend Han-Sol (Ahn Jae-Hong), a would-be webtoon creator. However, with the new year comes price hikes on her rent, booze, and smokes, she decides to give up on one of them. So begins a life of couch-surfing and reconnecting with members of her old band.
The angst of rental stress is real around the world, with people paying in excess of half their living wage on property. Whether its smashed avocado or whisky, there are some things we refuse to give up on simply because adulting gets in the way. For an entire generation, we’ve been virtually raised to believe that it’s our fault we can’t afford property, and not because the Baby Boomers ruined it for everyone.
Esom gives a remarkable performance as a character who steadfastly resists conforming to those expectations. As she goes from one friend’s house to the next, she brings a slab of eggs as a gift, even though she can barely afford them. In return, her friends consistently judge her for her choice to remain homeless simply so that she can continue indulging in the “luxury” of cigarettes and whisky. Yet as her friends unburden their own problems on her, it becomes evident that Mi-so’s choices are the less depressing ones.
Kim Tae-Soo’s crisp photography adds to the sense of displacement around Mi-so. Stylish shots of neatly aligned bright lights on New Year’s Eve, or orderly transactions over a countertop, only serve to highlight that Mi-So is marching to her own beat. One perfect shot (pictured above) comes when Mi-so and Han-Sol are donating blood to buy movie tickets, lying side-by-side in a hyper-neat office backed by a bright blue wall.
While these kind of sequences plays poverty for laughs, it is never anything less than real. After a series of emotional ups and downs, the final bittersweet shot is as heartbreaking as it is hopeful. Jeon Go-woon marks herself as a strong voice to watch, balancing the tragic and the comic for a film that taps completely into the modern condition.