Already among the selections at Locarno and Vancouver, Invisible Light is a little block of feminine hardness and repressed anger. Two stories of solitude follow one another: that of a Korean student exiled in the USA and a victim of anorexia; the other of a young woman who has returned to Korea after a long absence and who no longer knows anyone. At first constructed like a series of rigid playlets bordering on video installation and recalling the static work of (Chantal) Akerman in the 1970s, Invisible Light comes to life in a second part that is somewhat less controlled. In any case, by means of either fixed shots or a trembling camera, Gina Kim seeks to get to the heart of a single secret: what happens when you dig deep into the peripeties of the everyday-the moment when the inevitable repetition of the same leads to madness.  
Olivier Joyard, translated from French (November 2003)