Giovanni Fumu’s debut feature, “Abroad,” adopts a pared-back style in toying with genre elements. There are fairly recognizable elements that crop up throughout the course of the film, but Fumu maintains a terrific grip over the proceedings. As the film gets stranger and takes wild, baffling turns, things could have easily become just ludicrous. However, the film’s absolute commitment to a light, tenuous tone salvages it from being doomed to stark absurdity. Fumu has a great skill for setting the atmosphere, thickening suspense, and that particular tangling, twisting knot in the stomach as circumstances in the narrative edge to dread and uncertainty.
A Korean couple arrives in Minnesota hoping to witness the Northern Lights. Taemin (Jang Seong-beom) is exasperated by the long journey. He wears his discomfort constantly and ensures his more English-savvy girlfriend, Minji (Lim Young-joo), looks after pretty much everything. He is unwilling to take any responsibility, letting her, who is the more outgoing of the two, do all the talking. So it is up to Minji to figure out travel options from the airport to their Airbnb.
The delayed flight has made Taemin more miffed and displeased. They manage to get a car. Fumu adeptly peppers the scene with ample doubt. An unsettling measure of emotion develops with the driver warning them to be wary of prowling wolves. The other passenger, a local girl, reassures the couple the driver is merely exaggerating.
On reaching the Airbnb, Taemin is yet again vexed to find no pillows, no curtains. Moreover, we learn the trip has largely been the brainchild of Minji, who had planned it all. The film takes a startling turn when Minji disappears. The cops arrive and apprehend Taemin. Curiously, the CCTV depicts only Taemin entering the cabin. The police are convinced he’s fabricating the story about his missing girlfriend, whose belongings are nowhere to be found. Taemin isn’t so fluent in English, so he struggles to make a persuasive case for himself and prove the truthfulness of his claims. Taemin is left to his devices to find his girlfriend, who the police believe does not exist. Where’s the proof that attests to her having come with him?
Fumu, who has also written the film with Maximilian Selim, keeps the film trotting at a brisk pace. Eric Dow’s editing considerably compresses the rapidly escalating peculiarity of the drama so we don’t stick around in any one spot for too long. Things are in constant motion as Taemin is on the run. The town he lands in feels small and contained unto itself, bordered by the woods that hold the menace of wolves.
Soon, some faces assume uncanny similarity, and unexpected encounters hint at another dimension unfurling beneath the order of the narrative. The events self-consciously strain credulity, but Taemin doesn’t look that perplexed or disconcerted by the bizarreness he experiences. He seems to take it on his chin and run with it, stubbornly confident he will achieve his end no matter any series of hiccups.
Fumu brings a lovely ease to the way the situations pan out. There is a fluidity along with fine control with which the film unfolds. We get a sense that it will all ultimately boil down to a grand orchestrated twist, which many might see coming, but the joy of the film lies in its ability to keep you consistently invested, thanks to a solid, sincere performance by Jang Sung-bum. Just when things seem to be settling down, Fumu throws in a curveball, piquing interest and seizing our attention. This is no mean feat for a narrative that is built on jaded generic patterns but finds delightful, zany ways of circumventing them or rendering them freshly intriguing.