Burning: The Power to Shape Reality

Burning, directed by Lee Chang-dong and starring Ah-In Yoo and Steven Yeun, is a Korean film that stands out as one of the best I’ve seen in decades. Its story unfolds in a mysterious and cryptic way, weaving a dual narrative that keeps the audience intrigued.

For some evident reasons, I was able to connect the dots more precisely after analyzing The Talented Mr. Ripley, a film that, at its core, shares striking similarities. They are both psychological thriller talking about social disparities but in a very different manner.

In this article, I will delve into the film’s deeper probable meanings and examine why its themes are so profound and captivating.

The plot

Burning (2018), directed by Lee Chang-dong, follows Jong-su, an aspiring writer who reconnects with Hae-mi, a childhood acquaintance. She asks him to take care of her cat while she travels to Africa. When she returns, she introduces him to Ben, a wealthy and enigmatic man.

Jong-su becomes suspicious of Ben, especially after Hae-mi mysteriously disappears. As Jong-su investigates, he begins to suspect that Ben may have harmed her. The film builds toward an ambiguous and unsettling climax, leaving the audience questioning what is real and what is imagined.

The hidden themes of Burning

Burning is rich with hidden messages, subtle symbols, and deeper meanings beneath its surface. Here are some of the most significant hidden messages in the film:

1. Ben as a Symbol of the Elite Who “Burn” the Poor

Ben resembles a mysterious Gatsby-like figure—wealthy and young, a rare combination unless one is an heir or in an illicit business. He describes his job as “playing,” which essentially means it holds no distinction from work these days. His unusual Korean accent suggests that he may have been born in another country.

This bears a striking resemblance to Dickie in The Talented Mr. Ripley and the social elite in general. For individuals like them, there often seems to be no clear separation between pursuing their true passion and what is considered income. Honestly, for the lower-income classes with less economic education, money remains a mystery which seems to always be correlated with sacrificing time and personal aspirations.

In a capitalistic society, entertainment, luxury and idiosyncratic skills tends to generate the highest revenue when in demand because of scarcity, and only those with the privilege of abundance and to pursue such singular pleasures can afford to take certain risks. People from lower social classes, on the other hand, are often forced to make more pragmatic career paths.

Ben exudes an effortless nonchalance, effortlessly displaying confidence in himself, as evident in the scene where he casually jokes with his mother over the phone about having superior genes. He has good looks, a pleasant face, and enjoys wealth, as evidenced by his possessions like his Porsche, his apartment in Gangnam, and his taste for European cuisine. Ben travels for fun and enjoy gathering with his social circle which comes from the same background.

Much like Dickie, Ben is intrigued by people from lower social classes, seemingly as a source of entertainment. This could stem from his emotional numbness, a result of lacking a deeper sense of meaning in his life—something that is often characteristic of wealthy heirs or people who don’t struggle in life but only experience hedonistic pleasures.

Ben is intrigued by people’s emotions and has admitted that he has never shed a tear in his life. This is a fascinating concept, as high-ranking positions, such as CEOs, are often occupied by individuals who display traits of psychopathy. This is because aristocratic positions, in the sense of owning the means of production, often involve the exploitation of the workforce.

Ben confesses that his “hobby” of burning greenhouses might symbolize his enjoyment in making people he deems unimportant disappear. This could reflect how the wealthy destroy the lives of the poor without facing any repercussions, subjugating them and taking control of their destinies in the process.

The greenhouses could symbolize the “disposable class”, such as Hae-mi and Jong-su—marginalized, invisible, and repeatedly exploited and discarded by society across generations. The “disposable class” is typically the group that silently endures the most hardship to maintain the high standard of living for the wealthy.

Ben’s lack of remorse and casual attitude toward “burning” could suggest how the elite class preys on and erases the struggles of the working class without anyone noticing or caring.

Ben in Burning is an enigma—a figure of effortless wealth, detachment, and quiet menace. His actions suggest a deeper, unsettling truth beneath his polished exterior: he toys with people because, to him, they are disposable. His wealth and privilege place him outside the moral constraints of ordinary people, allowing him to treat life as a game.

The makeup and girly accessories in his apartment, including Michaella’s bracelet, strongly suggest that Hae-mi is not the first woman he has “collected” and possibly discarded. They imply a pattern—women who enter his life briefly, disappear, and leave behind these traces. It’s as if his apartment is a graveyard of forgotten lives, their remnants carefully curated but ultimately meaningless to him.

Ben enjoys domination in a subtle, nonchalant way. He doesn’t rage, he doesn’t force—he seduces, dismantles, and erases. His act of burning greenhouses (which may be a metaphor for killing women like Hae-mi) is done with the same casual enjoyment as cooking pasta. The pleasure he derives from destruction is not one of passion, but of detachment—he does it because he can.

Jong-su, in contrast, is the complete opposite. He is burdened with emotion, uncertainty, and a sense of injustice he cannot articulate. That’s why Ben fascinates and enrages him—Ben moves through life unbothered, invincible, while Jong-su struggles under the weight of existence.

2. Hae-mi as a Symbol of Lost Youth & Economic Despair

Hae-mi symbolizes marginalized women in a society fixated on beauty. In order to be noticed and fit in, she feels compelled to undergo cosmetic surgery, yet even then, it still isn’t enough to grant her access to a meaningful job.

Hae-mi, like many others, isn’t born from a high social position or breathtaking beauty, and Jong-su himself had belittled her during their childhood. She suffers from a lack of deep meaning in her life, being forced to take a job simply to survive or satisfy a “small hunger.”

She resides in a tiny apartment in the city, where she keeps a cat that is hard to see. This may symbolize the elusive nature of objective truth and the subjectivity of perception. The way she maxes out credit cards to travel to Africa in search of the meaning or to satiate her “Great Hunger” illustrates how, once people secure their survival, they begin seeking something deeper, just like the Maslow pyramid suggests.

Unfortunately for Hae-mi, her trip to Africa ends in a harsh awakening when she realizes the tour was a mere illusion. Instead of witnessing the grand desert sunset she had imagined, she finds herself in a mundane parking lot, shattering her romanticized expectations and revealing the truth about capitalism’s ability to sell empty experiences as meaningful.

By vanishing like the sunset, she might hope to escape the cyclical emptiness of her existence, where her existential needs and desire for meaning remains unmet in a society dominated by capitalism and superficial experiences. Her disappearance can be interpreted as a form of retreat from a world that cannot offer her the genuine connection and fulfillment she seeks.

Hae-mi, hailing from the same village as Jong-su, had to leave her roots behind to seek better opportunities in the city, which came at the cost of isolation. The fact that no one genuinely looks for her except for someone from her village reinforces the film’s grim perspective on social invisibility.

In the film, upon entering Jong-su’s house, Hae-mi admits that it reminds her of her childhood home, emphasizing the similarity of their origins and life paths, highlighting the conformity of non-elite classes. In contrast, Ben’s apartment, adorned with original artworks, stands out for its uniqueness but also sterile. In a way, this is precisely what Jong-su and Hae-mi have been deprived of due to social structure and cultural norms, while nevertheless possessing something that Ben lacks: a potential deeper sense of meaning in life.

3. Jong-su’s Powerlessness & the Illusion of Justice

Jong-su is an intelligent graduate student with artistic aspirations, but lacking real-life experience to draw from for his work. He is, in many ways, an entirely unremarkable protagonist. He symbolizes a frustrated underclass, unable to take action or succeed despite his intelligence and sensitivity.

Jong-su’s relationship with his parents is central to his sense of alienation and disillusionment in Burning. His father is largely absent, both physically and emotionally. He has been imprisoned for a crime out of anger.

Jong-su’s father embodies a tragic trajectory of misplaced values and missed opportunities, serving as a cautionary figure in Burning. His position as “Number One” in school due to pride rather than grades suggests a deep-rooted sense of self-importance or stubbornness, prioritizing honor over adaptability. This trait seems to have influenced his life decisions—he worked hard abroad but failed to recognize the changing tides of South Korea’s economy.

His decision to invest in a farm instead of real estate in Gangnam signifies a critical miscalculation. Gangnam represents modern South Korea’s rapid economic boom, where land value skyrocketed, creating a wealthy elite. By contrast, farming is tied to tradition and labor-intensive work—reflecting a belief in tangible, honest labor over speculative wealth-building. His failure to capitalize on the shifting economy left him financially ruined, stuck in a rigid worldview that ultimately led to his downfall.

Jong-su’s mother left when he was young, living separately and remarried, offering little support despite occasional phone calls. Their detachment mirrors the broader themes of disconnection, societal expectations, and the secret pain people endure without self-actualization in the lower classes, essentially giving him a model for failure.

In the opening scene of the film, Jong-su is heard but not seen, with only the smoke from his cigarette visible, as if announcing his invisibility to society from the very beginning. He is shown working temporarily as a delivery driver to make ends meet. Later in the film, he attends an interview for a position at a logistics platform, where candidates are called by numbers, highlighting the impersonality, lack of meaning, and dehumanization of certain entry-level jobs.

Although Ben’s true competence remains uncertain, it ultimately doesn’t matter, as his material signs of success alone make Jong-su feel inherently inadequate and uneasy around him. That’s why Jong-su quickly gives up on Hae-mi—he knows he can’t compete with the prestige and comfort Ben offers, even though Hae-mi feels a deeper and more authentic connection with him.

This dynamic is evident in Jong-su’s truck, where Hae-mi sits in the passenger seat beside him, as well as at the restaurant, where she sits close to him and focuses her attention on him, while Ben, slightly withdrawn, observes. However, the situation shifts when it comes to taking her home: Ben takes the initiative, pushing Jong-su into the background, further emphasizing his lack of assertiveness—especially in the face of the imposing presence of the Porsche.

Jong-su embodies the lower socio-economic class that senses the chains of exploitation but lacks the means to prove it. This class aspires to a better life, perhaps through the use of their personal qualities and aspirations, but is forced to accept jobs that lack personal resonance. In the end, his act of violence remains ambiguous—did he commit it in the name of justice, or was it driven by resentment?

4. The Meaning of “Burning”

The title and theme of “burning” have multiple interpretations:

• Class Conflict: The rich “burn” the poor, either metaphorically (erasing their existence) or literally (Ben’s possible murders).
• Desire & Frustration: Jong-su’s growing obsession and rage toward Ben “burns” inside him.
• Personal Transformation: Fire as a metaphor for change and renewal—Jong-su evolves from passive observer to someone who finally acts.

The Influence of William Faulkner’s “Barn Burning”

The film references Faulkner’s short story Barn Burning, which is also about class struggle, suppressed rage, and justice. In the story, a boy’s father burns barns to retaliate against wealthy landowners.

Jong-su (a writer) embodies this theme—struggling between moral restraint and the urge to destroy those who oppress him.

5. The Ambiguity of Reality

Social inequalities and the inherent flaws of capitalism, such as exploitation, are deeply sensitive topics. A significant challenge in addressing these issues lies in the widespread social conformity that discourages open acknowledgment or discussion.

Society often prefers to maintain the status quo, which makes it difficult for individuals to openly confront the harsh realities of systemic injustice.

The fear of social backlash or alienation keeps many from questioning or challenging the power structures that perpetuate such inequalities. As a result, these issues remain largely unspoken, even as they continue to affect the lives of countless individuals.

Whenever an individual speaks out, they are often quickly labeled as a complainer or a loser. However, it’s possible that they are right, and the system itself is fundamentally flawed or rigged against them. Because there is a fine line between being forced into servility and the belief of personal responsibility as well as exploitation and equity and temporary struggles.

For example, Jong-su could find a job, support himself, and maybe even earn a comfortable salary, but that is not the core issue. The real question lies in the slim chance he has of fulfilling his deep aspirations as an aspiring writer and satisfying his “great hunger,” or if circumstances are against him, forcing him to lead a life of monotonous and meaningless work.

Jong-su may be an unreliable narrator—his perception is shaped by class resentment and personal insecurity. This mirrors how society often responds to social grievances. The audience is never provided with a definitive answer, reinforcing the theme that truth is both subjective and elusive.

From Jong-su’s perspective, as well as for most non-elite social classes, Ben—whether he is an heir or earns money “automatically” or by “playing”—remains an enigma that is difficult to decipher. These Gatsby-like figures undeniably exist, yet their origins and socio-economic mechanisms remain obscure.

It is as if the elites hold a secret, a different perception of reality, illustrated by the metaphor of the morality of nature that Ben explains to Jong-su. They seem to be playing an entirely different game from that of the subordinate classes, who are trapped in a reality that condemns them to an endless cycle of servitude.

6. The Pantomime Scene

The pantomime scene serves as a poignant metaphor for how people often seek meaning in life by turning a blind eye to the harsh realities around them. It reflects the human tendency to construct illusions, using distractions or superficial pursuits to fill the void of existential emptiness.

These “placebos” offer a temporary sense of purpose, yet fail to address the deeper, often uncomfortable truths of life. In this way, the scene explores the dangerous comfort of living in a self-created fantasy, where meaning is sought not through confronting reality, but by avoiding it altogether.

Hae-mi and Jong-su are ultimately driven to adopt these deceptive tactics, sacrificing their authenticity in order to satisfy their deepest desires, chase illusory aspirations, and seek self-actualization at the cost of their true selves.

7. The Metaphor of the Well

In Burning, Hae-mi recounts a childhood memory of falling into a well—a terrifying experience where she feared being left alone forever. She claims that Jong-su was the one who found and saved her, though he has no recollection of it.

This moment can be seen as a metaphor for her present reality. Like the pantomime she performs, Hae-mi is searching for meaning in her life, hoping that Jong-su’s love might provide it. Yet, he ultimately dismisses her, branding her a “whore” and devaluing her once again. After this, she vanishes completely.

Hae-mi and Jong-su struggle to find meaning in traditional paths like raising a family, feeling disconnected from societal structures and trapped in servility. Hae-mi seeks something more authentic, while Jong-su is disillusioned by his social environment. Both search for purpose beyond societal expectations, reflecting real-life trends in countries like Korea, where a declining birth rate highlights disillusionment with economic struggles, traditional values and societal pressures. Ben who could represent the oppressive nature of capitalism, appear to separate them.

8. The Social Dynamics between classes

That scene is a perfect microcosm of the film’s power dynamics and the characters’ relationships to Hae-mi.

1. Ben’s friends closing their arms and subtly mocking her – They represent the elite, privileged class that Ben belongs to. To them, Hae-mi is an outsider, someone who lacks the refinement and effortless confidence that their social circle embodies. Her emotional sincerity and free-spirited nature contrast sharply with their detached, cynical worldview. Their body language—closed arms, subtle smirks—suggests that they see her as naive, embarrassing, or even slightly ridiculous.

2. Jong-su’s embarrassment – Jong-su comes from a similar social background as Hae-mi, but unlike her, he is highly self-conscious. He is caught between two worlds: he doesn’t belong to Ben’s elite circle, but he also struggles to embrace Hae-mi’s uninhibited expression. His discomfort stems from internalized shame—he wants to belong, and he fears that Hae-mi’s unfiltered, emotional display only highlights their differences from the people around them.

3. Ben’s boredom – Ben is completely indifferent. He doesn’t mock her, nor does he empathize. He’s simply watching, detached, as if she were putting on a show for his amusement. He sees people as entertainment, and once they cease to interest him, he moves on. His boredom here foreshadows his eventual disinterest in Hae-mi altogether.

This scene captures the film’s central theme: class dynamics, social alienation, and the contrast between emotional authenticity and detached privilege.

9. The Sunset Scene

The scene where Hae-mi undresses and dances in front of Jong-su and Ben at sunset is one of the most visually striking and symbolically rich moments in Burning. Here’s a breakdown of its possible meanings:

1. A Moment of Pure Freedom

Hae-mi’s dance is set to the backdrop of the fading sun, symbolizing impermanence. As she moves, she seems completely absorbed in the moment, letting go of societal constraints, personal insecurities, and material concerns. She is reconnecting with a primal, uninhibited state—one where she exists purely for herself, not for others.

2. The “Little Hunger” vs. “Great Hunger”

Earlier in the film, Hae-mi talks about the concept of Great Hunger—the deep existential longing for meaning. Her dance can be seen as an attempt to escape from the mundane Little Hunger of daily survival and embrace something greater. However, her audience—especially Ben—does not respond with the same emotional depth. It highlights the disconnect between her yearning for meaning and the cold indifference of those around her.

3. Vulnerability and Objectification

By stripping down, Hae-mi makes herself vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. She exposes her true self, but instead of being met with understanding or appreciation, she is met with detachment. Ben watches her with his characteristic smirk, amused but unaffected. Jong-su, on the other hand, is visibly uncomfortable, torn between desire and unease. The contrast between her openness and their apathy underscores how isolated she truly is.

4. A Foreshadowing of Her Disappearance

The sun sets as she dances, and soon after, she disappears from the narrative, just like she predicted in the restaurant. The scene feels like a farewell—almost as if Hae-mi, unable to find meaning in her life, is dissolving into the twilight, unnoticed and unremembered. It subtly foreshadows her fate, making her disappearance feel all the more tragic.

5. The Gender and Class Commentary

Hae-mi’s role in the film can be seen as a reflection of women in a patriarchal and class-driven society. She tries to assert her existence through beauty, sexuality, and emotional openness, yet she remains invisible to both men in different ways. Ben, as a rich, untouchable figure, treats her as disposable, while Jong-su, though more sympathetic, ultimately fails to truly see her either.

This scene is not just about sensuality—it’s about yearning, loneliness, and existential despair. Hae-mi wants to be seen in the deepest sense, yet her dance is met with indifference, mirroring the way society overlooks those who don’t fit into its rigid structures.

10. The Final Scene

People like Ben don’t play by the rules—they write them. He moves through life with an effortless detachment, immune to consequences, because the system isn’t designed to restrain people like him. Instead, it rewards them.

Workers from the working and middle classes, on the other hand, follow a script that tells them hard work leads to security, that playing fair ensures a comfortable retirement. But Ben exposes the lie: the real game is about power, manipulation, and knowing that morality can be subjective when you have enough influence.

So why do people tolerate him? Because acknowledging that the game is rigged would shatter their entire worldview. It would mean admitting that their sacrifices—decades of labor, obedience, and compromise—were not steps toward success but acts of servitude. Ben represents what they cannot be: someone who exists outside the system while benefiting from it.

Jong-su, however, sees through the illusion. And that’s precisely why Ben must be confronted.

Jong-su finally takes action, killing Ben and setting him on fire, in his Porsche which is essentially the symbol of his wealth and power over him.

But does this act actually change anything? Does it make Jong-su powerful, or does it show he has become just as destructive reminiscent of a cain figure?

The film leaves it open-ended, forcing the audience to question whether revenge leads to justice or just perpetuates violence, if Jong-su’s theories were right, or if he was simply using them to explain his failures.

Some theories suggest that the film’s final sequence is actually part of the novel Jong-su is writing after taking over Hae-mi’s apartment, as hinted in one of the last scenes. In my view, much like director Lee Chang-dong, Jong-su’s only way to resist Ben and his oppression is by channeling it into his writing cryptically—transforming his aspirations into a story as both an act of denunciation and a means of reclaiming power.

Hidden Message: The Futility of Seeking Answers

Burning deliberately avoids providing clear resolutions, embracing the ambiguity that mirrors the complexities and uncertainties of real life. By leaving the audience without definitive answers, the film echoes the unpredictable and unresolved nature of human existence, particularly in a world where issues like poverty, class struggle, and existential uncertainty persist.

In the movie, characters grapple with their desires, aspirations, and frustrations in a society that offers limited opportunities for those at the bottom. Jong-su’s internal struggle, Hae-mi’s search for meaning, and Ben’s indifferent luxury all highlight the stark differences in their realities. The lack of a clear “truth” in the film is a reflection of how real life rarely provides satisfying or neat solutions to these deep-rooted problems. It’s a reminder that life often feels like a series of unanswered questions, where people try to make sense of their circumstances but seldom find the clarity or justice they seek.

Moreover, Burning pushes the idea that life doesn’t operate on the principles of fairness or logic. Poverty, social injustice, and the meaning of one’s existence can often feel like open-ended struggles that are influenced by arbitrary forces like the Pareto distribution or simply luck. The film’s lack of resolution doesn’t just leave audiences with a sense of unease; it invites them to confront these issues and reflect on the existential dilemmas they face in their own lives, making the movie a poignant commentary on the human condition.

Final Thoughts

Burning explores power, identity, and invisibility, questioning who defines what is real and valuable in a society shaped by power dynamics—those with wealth and privilege (Ben) or those searching for meaning (Jong-su and Hae-mi)?

Ben, with his wealth and indifference, wields power not just materially but psychologically, manipulating those like Jong-su, who are trapped in cycles of poverty. His reality is curated and controlled, free from the constraints faced by the less privileged.

In contrast, Jong-su and Hae-mi struggle with invisibility and existential uncertainty, their lives shaped by social expectations and economic hardship. Their identities are not fully realized, and their struggles remain unseen, reflecting a societal issue where the marginalized are ignored, and the powerful are in the spotlight.

Burning forces us to question who shapes reality and who is left to struggle in silence. Jong-su and Hae-mi’s search for meaning contrasts with Ben’s ability to shape his world with privilege and apathy. The film challenges the nature of power, urging us to ask whether true freedom and self-definition are possible in a system that decides who is visible and who is not.

Is Jong-su simply bitter, or is he confronting a deeper, systemic issue? The film’s ambiguity reflects the limitations of individual action against larger societal forces, emphasizing that social struggles cannot be easily categorized or solved.

Ultimately, Jong-su’s guilt depends on the interpretation of two possible realities: either he is truly a prisoner of servility in his struggle against oppression, or his lack of discernment and willpower prevents him from breaking free, reducing his rebellion to mere powerlessness and resentment.