Lovers’ Concerto

Amateur photographer Lee Ji-hwan chases after new customers Gyung-hee and Soo-in as they leave the cafe where he works, and the film unfolds through a non-linear structure that folds together 1996 chapters and a 2001 arc, using flashbacks within flashbacks to tell a memory-driven romance that moves in roughly connected leaps.

Summer of 1996

Ji-hwan’s pursuit pulls the trio into a tangled dance of affection and miscommunication. Soo-in feels uneasy when he proclaims his love on the street, and he reappears moments later with a clock held before his face and a note claiming he has wound back time so that his declaration never happened. As they reconnect, Gyung-hee and Soo-in both seem to develop real feelings for him, and all three share a shared memory from a film they watched together—Il Postino—where the line “I’m in love. It hurts but I want it to go on hurting” becomes a refrain that underscores the ache of their closeness. Gyung-hee, buoyed by a magazine personality test that declares them a good match, experiences a bittersweet glow when others cheer them on, even as the cafe owner’s congratulations sting her in a personal way. A road trip soon follows, a moment that tests loyalties and deepens longing.

During the trip, Soo-in keeps a quiet vigil as Ji-hwan sleeps, brushing a mole on his ear, while in the morning Soo-in is absent and Gyung-hee nearly becomes Ji-hwan’s target for a kiss. Soo-in shares memories of her first love—a boy she spent long moments with in a hospital—revealing a ritual of swapping names to stay connected even after parting. The sky darkens with rain, Soo-in falls ill, and Gyung-hee’s usual cheer gives way to vulnerability as she reproaches Ji-hwan for stirring her emotions, before leaning in and kissing him. Back in Seoul, Soo-in’s illness lingers, and the friends drift apart for a time; a party becomes a turning point when Soo-in sings a love ballad about the three of them and once more reaches for Ji-hwan’s face to remember him.

As the social circle threads through, Ji-hwan writes a note declaring his love for Gyung-hee and asks Gyung-hee to pass it to Soo-in, a decision that backfires when Gyung-hee believes the letter was meant for Soo-in and tears it up. In a later hospital scene, Gyung-hee visits Soo-in in intensive care, where Soo-in reads aloud a letter detailing her hopes for Gyung-hee and Ji-hwan’s future and hands over a wax-sealed note meant for Ji-hwan. The sorrow and suspense deepen as the autumn days turn cold.

Late autumn or winter 1996

Ji-hwan drifts away from his friends for months, and when Gyung-hee invites him for a drink, she downplays an injury to her hand while hinting that Soo-in’s distance may reflect a wider rift. He remains, drinking until exhaustion, and a brief flashback shows Gyung-hee tending to his wound, kissing him in a quiet moment, and leaving with a sigh that hints at a fragile connection that never fully heals.

2001

A plain handmade envelope containing a black-and-white photo sends Ji-hwan on a new quest. He returns to the cafe where his old friend runs a small business, and the friend hands him a box of photographs, nudging him to seek Gyung-hee and Soo-in after five years apart. A classmate explains that both girls were very sick and missed substantial time at school; the classmate also reveals that Gyung-hee died five years earlier and Soo-in left Seoul soon after. The postman in the town becomes a cryptic signal, as a brief flash shows him sneaking into a woman’s house and declaring his love for her—the kind of intimate betrayal that mirrors the broken trust of the trio. Ji-hwan discovers that Gyung-hee is still alive, though not as vibrant as before, and the two share a moment of tenderness as Soo-in’s influence lingers in the memory of Ji-hwan’s touch.

Gyung-hee accompanies Ji-hwan to the wedding of the cafe owner, where they appear as a hopeful couple even as the past presses in from every side. The narrative pushes toward revelation: Tokyo-style clarity arrives in a flood of flashbacks as Ji-hwan encounters the truth about the women’s fates and the long shadow of time.

In the final layers of memory, a postscript reveals the sealed letter Soo-in wrote on her deathbed, designed to guide Ji-hwan in dating Gyung-hee. Soo-in’s letter also carries a ceremonial mark she drew on her father’s ear to resemble Ji-hwan’s—an idiosyncratic echo of the intimacy they shared. Gyung-hee’s own letter follows, confessing that she tore up his letter to Soo-in yet remained grateful for his kindness and for inspiring her love of photography. She speaks of her fragile health and of her wishes for her funeral, and the closing voiceover asks for a sense of farewell to a life built on shared dreams and an artful companionship. The film ends with a melancholy but luminous memory: a final, hopeful image of the trio together on a road trip—a photograph that captures the happiness that once bound them.

“I’m in love. It hurts but I want it to go on hurting.”

Last Updated: October 09, 2025 at 15:23