Winter in Sokcho follows Soo-Ha (Bella Kim), a young woman working in a boarding house in the titular town. While close to her mother (Park Mi-hyeon) she has never met her father, who disappeared before she was born. All she knows is that he was French and a fisherman. When Frenchman Yan (Roschdy Zem) shows up at the boarding house, she becomes fixated.

A strong sense of place is immediately established – Sokcho is presented as run-down and in the midst of major change. Tower blocks are replacing local haunts as young people seek escape, and a sense of emptiness permeates even populated scenes. The place feels isolated, something only added to by the layer of snow and ice atop the grey landscape. Unfortunately, the film takes this iciness a step too far, resulting in a coldness in substance as well as style.

Soo-Ha suffers from being a terrible character type found in contemporary literature: the waif girl. A much-discussed trope, as seen in the likes of Sally Rooney novels, major features include being intelligent yet tormented, and generally having a complicated relationship with sex and food. Soo-Ha, who has returned home to Sokcho after studying French and Korean literature in Seoul, has an emotionally distant relationship with her boyfriend, and with frequent allusions to her poor appetite, she meets these criteria to a tee.

It's not that she doesn't have the potential to be an interesting character, but the film never lets her reach any great heights – or undergo much development.

Despite her inhospitable demeanour, the presence of artist Yan in the town is of instant interest to Soo-Ha. She is the only person who can communicate with him, and becomes a de-facto tour guide for his trip. But it's not clear what she really wants from him. The initial implication is, of course, that he is her father. Later though, when he suggests she may be mistaken for his daughter, she quickly adds: “or girlfriend”. The relationship between the pair has the potential to be complex and intriguing, but lacks the emotional heft to warrant much viewer investment. As a result, the emotional climax of the film is not all that emotional.

This is a film that has leaned too far into show don't tell. Animated sequences occur throughout the piece, and although beautiful in style – melancholic, as Soo-Ha describes them – they are oblique and extended interpretations of the central character's internal state. Undulating bodies and silently screaming figures feel like being hit over the head with meaning; there's no trust that the audience can interpret Soo-Ha's emotions, and the practice ultimately undermines both the quiet pain that Kim lends her character and the visually striking moments that punctuate the film.

Food plays a key role, as do the pressures on women to look a particular way. Both Soo-Ha's mother and boyfriend recommend plastic surgery to her, and her mother also criticises her lack of enthusiasm while eating and reminds her that she must stay thin. It's no surprise that Soo-Ha displays classic eating disorder traits, but their presentation here is very surface level, feeling slightly outdated, and just making Soo-Ha into an increasingly carbon-copy modern protagonist.

A number of interesting ideas are brought up throughout Winter in Sokcho. The reactions of locals and foreigners to the presence of the demilitarised zone (DMZ); the situations that arise from being mixed race and how the context of who Soo-Ha is impacts how others speak to her; and the pain and power of hope. These are all complex topics ripe for discussion, but not much is really said about them. The film serves as a source of talking points rather than facilitating an actual conversation.

While it has moments of icy beauty, Winter in Sokcho bears a regrettable similarity to the many dead fish that it features.

Winter In Sokcho premiered at SXSW London on June 4.