The three form something that I am hesitant to call a friendship. They hang out. But Africa has changed Hae-mi. An obsession with an African dance performed often at sundown — called the ‘Great Hunger’ — has overcome her and she confesses to a desire to slip away forever with the burning sun whenever she watches it set. Jong-su and Ben have confessions of their own: just as Jong-su confides in Ben his love for Hae-mi, Ben shares his own secret, a hobby — the art of burning greenhouses. He tells Jong-su that his next burning will take place over the coming days.

This summary all sounds very abstract, but the real plot is the one which takes place in Jong-su’s head. It could be described as a psychological mystery in disguise as a crime drama — go in expecting big twists or fights and you’ll be sorely disappointed. It’s the way Jong-su reacts to the unusual occurrences around Hae-mi and himself that forms the meat of the story, although this doesn’t sound like much on paper. It all seems to be either a cruel joke or a big metaphor — although the meaning of said metaphor escapes me.

Admittedly, Burning does inherit many of Murakami’s flaws. Even the biggest fans of slow-burning films (no pun intended) will be tested. Murakami’s reliance upon clichés of his own creation makes the film rather predictable for those familiar with his works. Some flaws that are new to the film adaptation include the director’s insistence on skipping nothing; some scenes simply add nothing to the narrative, but worse, others explain something that has already been shown several times before. Watching Jong-su play catch-up to what the audience already knows is a bit like watching a re-run of Wallander.