jasdooit

The Busan International Film Festival comes with the arrival of autumn, similar to suddenly sensing the change in seasons through the morning air. Even when entering the theater as a group, the mystery of cinema—essentially a personal journey—seems particularly autumn-like. While some may move forward quickly and others fall behind, it consistently arrives for me at this time, carrying its special appeal.

The Busan International Film Festival is an event that brings joy to everyone, yet it carries personal emotions. It’s like the pain of meeting a first love that was never truly expressed. I deeply loved the Busan International Film Festival.

My first experience with the festival started through an event that seemed like a calculated decision by the organizers. In 2007, during my third year at university, the 12th Busan International Film Festival chose the person who had written the most film reviews on its official website as the “Most Active Reviewer,” awarding them a suite ticket for a cruise to Osaka. Rather than attending classes or going home, I spent my days at theaters and nights at jjimjilbangs (Korean saunas), watching movies and writing reviews. For about a week, I attended four screenings each day, and including the opening and closing ceremonies, I ended up reviewing around 30 films.

I explored the festival with a strong resolve to understand hastily written notes in the dimly lit theater. That year, as the Most Active Reviewer, I took my first international trip because of the festival. It was a period when I exchanged my allowance and grades for movies—and it was all worthwhile. The next year, I joined the first group of citizen critics, strengthening my connection with the festival. By that time, I tried to create a short film, which was shown at the Busan Cinematheque and even had a post-screening discussion with the audience. In my mid-20s, I was bold and completely involved, losing myself in the festival every autumn like someone slightly mad.

Even today, during this time of year, people inquire about the Busan International Film Festival. This festival, filled with personal memories, must take place in Busan. My journey in storytelling and teaching it to students probably became stronger because of those memories and experiences. The days spent waiting in line at ticket counters in Nampodong and Haeundae every morning, sharing soju with filmmakers late into the night, and crying or cheering in front of the screen, believing that film was another word for life. How much did I depend on, rely on, and owe to the festival? My everyday life was drawn into its influence, bending like spacetime around a massive object—a fortunate situation, maybe.

This fall, the thrill of previous years blends with a current sense of tranquility as I return to the Busan International Film Festival. Over its 30 years, both the festival and I have evolved. Still, Busan is deeply immersed in cinema. Thinking about directors, movie lovers, volunteers, and those who quietly contributed to the festival, I feel a deep respect. Although each person’s experience with the festival varies, there must be a common bond. I now barely understand the heart I once possessed. The Busan International Film Festival is a tribute to those who cherish cinema.