The Woman Who Ran hides a clever, profound complexity behind stunning minimalistic appearances. To the irony of the title, the protagonist is temporarily on the run from a seemingly perfect relationship that doesn’t feel enough like life. A candid, attentive listener, she indirectly experiences joys and troubles of some old friends, who also lead apparently ideal lives, as they naturally surface during lengthy conversations. I wonder if solace is what she is unconsciously after as she discovers imperfections in unexpected places. Even the music, strangely hinting at vague diegetic qualities, seems to come from some abstracted vintage device. And so is the ending, which soothing images are actually those of another film. Stroke of genius.
On a different level, the theme of menace looms all over the story. That of men, often depicted as inept creepy figures. That of nature, somehow referred to through feral vignettes of fluffy ravenous felines and abusive chickens. And that of the environment—silent mountains, misty landscapes, technologically efficient architectures hiding mysterious inaccessible floors.