Buried Hearts (2025)

Buried Hearts (매장된 마음들) is a poignant South Korean melodrama that speaks in silences and remembers in shadows. Directed by acclaimed filmmaker Kim Seong-hoon (A Hard Day, Tunnel), this 2025 feature swaps thrillers for tenderness, telling the story of two souls bound by sorrow, and the fragile hope that blooms in the ruins of heartbreak.

Set in a quiet coastal town still healing from a national tragedy, the film follows Yoon Seo-jin (played with aching restraint by Kim Tae-ri), a once-promising artist who lost her fiancé in a ferry accident years ago. She now lives alone, restoring antique pottery for a local museum. Her life changes when she meets Jung Woo-hyuk (portrayed by Ryu Jun-yeol), a newly transferred police officer with a scarred past of his own.

Their meeting is accidental. Their connection, inevitable.

🧱 A Story of Grief — and the Slowness of Healing

There’s no grand revelation or sweeping romance in Buried Hearts. Instead, the film moves with the rhythm of waves — steady, mournful, and patient. Through shared rituals — walking the beach, repairing broken ceramics, sharing rain-wet silence under one umbrella — Seo-jin and Woo-hyuk begin to unearth the emotions they’ve buried too deep.

Director Kim allows space for their grief to breathe. There’s no rush to heal. In fact, the film seems to suggest that some griefs are not meant to be healed — only witnessed.

🎭 Performances: Understatement as Power

Kim Tae-ri delivers a performance that is simply breathtaking. Her eyes carry the weight of every anniversary missed, every phone call unanswered, every “what if” that lives in her bones. Ryu Jun-yeol, never loud, never forceful, is the perfect counterbalance — his pain is quieter, buried under duty and guilt, but no less potent.

Their chemistry is unspoken, but undeniable. Not passion, but empathy. Not heat, but warmth.

🎨 Visuals & Symbolism

Cinematographer Hong Kyung-pyo (Burning, Parasite) turns every frame into a painting. Misty mornings, cracked tea cups, and lone figures framed by doorways — each shot evokes a sense of longing. There are long takes with no dialogue, just sound — of wind, water, and memory.

The motif of restored pottery is especially poignant: like people, some things can break and be made beautiful again, not despite the cracks — but because of them.

🎼 Music & Soundscape

Composer Mowg (Masquerade, I Saw the Devil) offers a minimalist piano score that lingers like breath on glass. But just as crucial is what the film doesn’t score: moments of silence where grief speaks louder than music. The absence becomes its own symphony.

✍️ Themes

Delayed mourning, and how unresolved grief can shape an entire identity.
Emotional isolation, especially in a culture where silence is seen as strength.
Restoration and acceptance, not through dramatic catharsis, but tiny moments of kindness and vulnerability.

🔚 Final Verdict

Buried Hearts is a rare achievement — a film that trusts its audience to listen, feel, and wait. It doesn’t scream for attention. It whispers. And for those who lean in, it will break you — and then gently put you back together.

Not everyone will have the patience for its stillness, but those who do will carry it long after the credits fade.