On the other end of the spectrum, there's Gina Kim's achingly spare, focused, naturalistic (and undistributed) feature debut, Invisible Light, which divides itself between two stories linking two solitary young women, one in L.A., the other in Seoul. The film's title is rather precious, and contradictory, as what's remarkable about the movie is extremely visible. Kim has a terrific eye, a gift for near-wordless storytelling, a knack for generating a tense gliding rhythm between images and sounds, shots and scenes, and for yielding a quality of radiance in her actors.
Michael Almereyda (Jan/Feb 2004)