South Korean film “Home Behind Bars” is a somber but touching human drama about one seasoned female prison guard gradually discovering that she does have a heart to feel. Leisurely following her emotional journey involved with one particular inmate and her daughter, the movie slowly develops its story and characters via a number of quietly sensitive moments, and it surely earns some human poignancy in the end.

During its first act, the movie alternates between the respective daily lives of Tae-jeo (Song Ji-hyo) and Joon-yeong (Do Young-seo). Tae-jeo has worked as a guard in some big prison for female inmates for more than 10 years, and we observe how strict and unflappable she often is compared to many of the colleagues at her workplace. Joon-yeong is a teenage girl who happens to be the daughter of one of those inmates under Tae-jeo’s supervision, and we observe how she has lived with some help from an old friend of her mother, who willingly lets Joon-yeong stay in her shabby motel.

On one day, Joon-yeong’s mother, Mi-yeong (Ok Ji-young), is notified that her mother passed away, but she is not allowed to go outside and then attend her mother’s funeral. As Mi-yeong becomes rather depressed about this, Tae-jeo feels sorry for Mi-yeong, and she agrees to go to the funeral of Mi-yeong’s mother when a junior colleague of hers suggests that later.

At the funeral of Mi-yeong’s mother, Tae-jeo comes across Joon-yeong, who happens to be handling the funeral alone by herself. Feeling some pity on her, Tae-jeo impulsively gives her smartphone number to Joon-yeong even though she is not supposed to get involved with her more, and Joon-yeong unexpectedly calls her not long after that. Even though she knows well the possible complications resulted from that, Tae-jeo chooses to meet Joon-yeong again, and, of course, she comes to care about Joon-yeong more than before.

Now this looks like your average melodramatic story, but the movie is too thoughtful to become mellow and teary, and it patiently observes instead how the accidental relationship between its two main characters causes some small ripples in their respective daily lives. As showing more care toward Joon-yeong, Tae-jeo comes to reflect more on how barren and lonely her life has been especially since her divorce, though she remains mostly firm and strict to her inmates as usual. In case of Joon-yeong, her mundane daily life is brightened up a bit by the kind compassion from Tae-jeo, and she sincerely appreciates that while still struggling with her feelings toward her mother. So far, she has been fairly fine without her mother for a while, but now Tae-jeo reminds her of what has been deficient in her life.

Meanwhile, the screenplay by director/writer Cha Jeong-yoon also pays considerable attention to small and big moments at Tae-jeo’s workplace. Even though Mi-yeong sometimes does not get along with her fellow cellmates, they tolerate and understand her moody status nonetheless, and some of the most touching moments in the film come from how they show some solidarity to each other from time to time. Although Tae-jeo also does not get along that well with some of her colleagues either, they usually show her respect and recognition nonetheless, and there are several humorous moments involved with that junior colleague of hers, who is relatively inexperienced but turns out to be more resourceful than expected.

The story eventually becomes a bit melodramatic as Tae-jeo attempts to facilitate the re-connection between Mi-yeong and her daughter, but the movie still sticks to its dry and patient attitude with considerable realism. I must confess that I have no idea on how realistic the depiction of the female prison in the film actually is, but the prison scenes in the film are presented with enough sense of life at least. As a matter of fact, I am even considering showing the film to a friend of mine who once worked as a prison guard and then asking him about his opinion on the movie.

The main cast members of the film did a commendable job of embodying the mundane qualities of their respective characters. As the jaded but palpably beating heart of the film, Song Ji-hyo diligently carries the film with her restrained performance filled with subtle nuances to be appreciated. As her character gets softened along the story, Song slowly imbued her character with small warm human touches, and we can clearly sense her character’s slow but gradual inner change along the story. While young performer Do Yeong-seo does more than holding her own place opposite Song, Ok Ji-yeong brings enough human qualities to her character without overlooking her character’s edgy sides at all, and Kim Mi-sook and Yoon Hye-ri provide extra humor and warmth to the story as Tae-jeo’s two close colleagues.

In conclusion, “Home Behind Bars” is modest but admirable for its empathetic handling of its story and characters, and Cha, who previously co-wrote the screenplay for Lee Mi-rang’s debut feature film “Concerning My Daughter” (2023) before making a feature film debut here, demonstrates her considerable potential here in this film. As far as I can see from this debut feature film of hers, she is another talented South Korean female filmmaker to watch, and it will be interesting to see what may come next from her after this solid beginning.