This feeling of confusion and isolation sits at the heart of Han Yung-min’s performance of a young man who, despite the love he experienced from his mother, is made to feel like an outsider in his own country simply because of the colour of his skin.
Based on the novel Another Summer by Kim Hee-jin, about a man who, due to an unexplainable genetic mutation, is born with brown skin to Asian Korean parents. The Mutation does a beautiful job of exploring the nuances of these elements of the human experience that People of Color can relate to. Making the distinction between race and ethnicity is important to this story because Shin uses the novel as a template for a story that becomes more than just about our external appearances. She explores the grief that overcomes Se-oh when his mother — the only person in the world who loves and accepts him — dies. There are the years of grief he has over losing his father, not through death, but abandonment, because he couldn’t handle the constant ridicule from their community speculating that his wife had cheated on him with a Black man.
Already in an emotionally vulnerable state, Se-oh quits his job at an amusement park after receiving no sympathy from his supervisor, and begins to sink into despondency. Caught in an emotional rip-tide, he reflects on his feelings of insecurity about not being Korean enough, thinking of how the guests at the park enjoyed his performance as a character actor wearing a white tiger costume — a visual metaphor Shin deftly uses to show Se-oh’s psychological sensitivities born from wishing his skin tone was lighter and therefore more acceptable in a society where colorism and anti-Blackness are common.
Se-oh decides the only option he has left is to walk away from his life. He dresses in the one suit he has and goes to a high-end department store to purchase a luxury brown leather suitcase with the money he’s saved up. On the train, with no particular destination in mind, he makes a bold proposition to his fellow passengers: if one person agrees to spend one day with him, they could have the case which contains his most precious possessions. When no one responds in the awkward silence, he gets off, but not alone. A young woman approaches him and suggestively says she’ll do whatever he wants in exchange for the case, and Se-oh, disturbed and mildly afraid, says that’s not what he had asked for, and has to physically fight her off and run away with the case as her curses fade into the distance.
I’m not sure if it was Shin’s intention with this scene, but I interpreted it as a reference to how Black people are sexualized by others because of the stigmatized portrayals perpetuated by Hollywood films and music videos, and how they in turn are interpreted and represented in the K-pop industry through the appropriation of Black culture and media. As such, the question of whether or not this young woman would’ve reacted the same way if it had been an ethnically Asian man in Se-oh’s place is one I pondered.
Later, Se-oh is approached by a different young woman, tall, with short hair and a hesitant but curious manner. She asks if his deal was genuine. She introduces herself as Sora, says she was on the train with him, and was impressed with his brave, if rather unusual, declaration. And thus begins an adventure of two young people who feel like outcasts, mutants in their own homeland. Though both agree to the terms, they naturally have doubts and wariness about each other, but are still open to seeing where the next twenty-four hours across South Korea takes them.
On their journey from the bustling metropolitan landscape of Seoul, where everyone is moving at a pace almost too fast to keep track of, through the small suburban towns to more rural communities dotted with factories, farms, and small villages. As they observe the changing landscape and share their thoughts on what it means to be different in South Korea, the camera periodically focuses on small signs with language unwelcoming to migrants. Though brief, these moments critically point to the occurrences of racial and xenophobic discrimination, and even human rights violations that migrant workers and immigrants experience within South Korean society. Shin not so subtly addresses how the words ‘mutants’ and ‘mutations’ carry different connotations and weight within the film, showing how powerful language is as a medium to express the complexities of human identity and behavior.
In Sora, Se-oh sees another soul mired in grief and social isolation. When Sora reveals that she’s a Lesbian, and her former partner passed away, she expects him to react with disgust and rejection. Instead, she’s met with his quiet acceptance and sympathy for her loss. When Sora takes Se-oh to her childhood village, they encounter the mother of Sora’s girlfriend (Moon Geun-young), who’s being heckled and harassed by men when they recognize her as being the mother of a homosexual.
The village becomes a setting where Shin has her characters have their own moments of personal reckoning. Sora and the mother share their heartbreak over losing the person who mattered the most due to the constant barrage of social ridicule and pressure to conform to be something she wasn’t, while Se-oh is able to say his final goodbye to his mother on his own terms, and accept that his skin color and hair texture are nothing to be ashamed of and judged for.
I’m a sucker for a well-executed ‘found family’ storyline where total strangers, or casual acquaintances who seem like total opposites because of their appearances, jobs, or cultural backgrounds, form bonds that mend them into a tight-knit family unit that no outside force can break. They may become frayed due to internal and external conflicts, but the choice to be together, to have each other’s backs in a world that demands conformity and assimilation, is what makes the ability to choose who you call family a gift.
At its core, The Mutation is a film about two people who couldn’t be more different, realizing they’ve found someone who understands them better than their own blood relatives and community. In Sora, Se-oh finds someone whose curiosity about what it’s like to be a Black man in South Korea comes from a place of empathy and commiseration. She sees an extremely lonely young man who’s become unmoored from life, filled with an intense fear that if he drifts away there will be no one to miss him, and who, in spite of that fear, did the bravest thing she’s ever seen anyone do: reach out for connection.
In my interview with Shin Su-won, we discussed how themes of secrets and revelations work almost as a connective through-line in her films and dramas, challenging herself to make a film about a young Black man facing discrimination, and working with Han Hyun-min and Lee Zee-young on the characters. We also shared our perspectives on the metaphors of tables throughout the film symbolizing the things people choose to be open about and the secrets kept from loved ones and ourselves.
Following its premiere as an Official Selection of the 2025 Busan International Film Festival (BIFF), The Mutation had its North American premiere in the 2026 Horizon platform at Fantasia International Film Festival (FIFF), in Montreal, Canada.
Interpretation for the interview was conducted by Pyo Young-soo.
Carolyn Hinds
Freelance Film Critic, Journalist, Podcaster & YouTuber
African American Film Critics Association Member, Tomatometer-Approved Critic
Host & Producer Carolyn Talks…, and So Here’s What Happened! Podcast
Bylines at Authory.com/CarolynHinds
Twitter & Instagram: @CarrieCnh12
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