Walk down a narrow corridor, and you come across a small theater that has held its place for many years. "Mugeukseong" and "Yukhangnyeon" have been running the theater for 10 years. Their daily routines haven't changed all these years: they welcome audiences, record the lights of the theater, and show films. Mugeukseong spends hours cutting tickets that she designed herself, listening, in vain, for the footsteps of audiences coming down the theater. The em...
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Walk down a narrow corridor, and you come across a small theater that has held its place for many years. "Mugeukseong" and "Yukhangnyeon" have been running the theater for 10 years. Their daily routines haven't changed all these years: they welcome audiences, record the lights of the theater, and show films. Mugeukseong spends hours cutting tickets that she designed herself, listening, in vain, for the footsteps of audiences coming down the theater. The empty space is filled with her sigh that she lets out as she looks at the tickets scattered on the desk. The moon rises like an eyebrow hanging in the sky, and the night's audiences begin to fill the theater one by one. The night deepens, and audiences enjoy the night's shows, while chasing away sleep with a game of bingo. As the wind begins to feel warmer, audiences pour out from the theater to greet the new day. Mugeukseong and Yukhangnyeon are left alone in the theater once again, with fatigue showing on their faces. The film takes audiences on a short journey to Kukdo and other small theaters faced with similar fates.
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