In a large room in a nondescript modern office block in Seoul, staff from a
recruitment company are staging their own funerals. Dressed in white
robes, they sit at desks and write final letters to their loved ones.
Tearful sniffling becomes open weeping, barely stifled by the copious
use of tissues.
And then, the climax: they rise and stand over
the wooden coffins laid out beside them. They pause, get in and lie
down. They each hug a picture of themselves, draped in black ribbon.
As they look up, the boxes are banged shut by a man dressed in black
with a tall hat. He represents the Angel of Death. Enclosed in darkness,
the employees reflect on the meaning of life.
