A quiet and sublime Korean film that proves less really is more. Tae-suk is an apparently homeless yet well-kempt young man leading a zen life of breaking into vacationing families’ homes and keeping temporary residence. Instead of burglarizing to get by (with the exception of helping himself to a home-cooked meal and hot bath now and then), he does strangers’ laundry, cleans house, and sometimes performs minor repairs before departing. Tae-suk seems to have little use for actual human interaction, and we never hear him speak for the entire film. At one seemingly empty abode, he goes through his routine unaware that an equally silent occupant observes him from adjacent rooms. When Tae-suk realizes he’s been discovered by the woman whose portraits he’s been admiring, he stumbles for a retreat. before making a run for it, Tae-suk finds out that the woman, Sun-hwa, is an abused wife looking for her own escape. They leave the nasty husband behind and hit the streets to share unspoken adventures in trespassing. While Sun-hwa is quick to adopt Tae-suk’s habits, she exhibits subtle lapses of victimhood that make it hard to be as stealthy as necessary. Before long the couple is discovered in very compromising circumstances, and Tae-suk is jailed for questionable charges. Sun-hwa returns to an unhappy marriage, with her husband wary of her “kidnapper”’s return. While imprisoned, Tae-suk practices the art of becoming truly ghost-like, and upon his release puts his phantom skills to use on his way back to Sun-hwa. For all the laid-back and quiet atmosphere, 3-Iron is quite dynamic and powerful. The performances are emotive and skillful, telling the story in nuances seldom seen in most films. It’s both thrilling and meditative on a level that audiences probably rarely tune into. And yes, the golf club of the title does make for a most pivotal prop.

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