In 2009, the late Bappaditya Bandopadhyay made Houseful, a story about an arthouse director who is forced to rent a cinema to show his latest film, after a series of box office flops. That same issue of art and finance appears in Lee Jeahan’s By Another Name but is pushed forward in a more metaphysical and conceptual narrative. In Jeahan’s film, the protagonist Je-hyeon is terminally ill with a short time left to live. Throwing caution to the wind, he wants to make one final personal film with colleague, Ji-young, with the time he has left. Plus he wants to smoke and drink his whiskey that makes him feel that his life is worth living. However, his wife Soo-jin is aghast by his behaviour and chides him for his obsessional irresponsibility. This conflict is soon resolved, and the film breaks into two, revealing that we just saw one short version of By Another Name, indicated by the end credits. The film then segues into Yet Another Name, the second short version that makes up the feature. It is now three years later, and Soo-jin now wants to complete her husband’s dream. Ji-young finds her a lookalike for her husband that fits Je-hyeon’s autobiographical script. The metaphysical twist is that Ji-young has conversations with Je-hyeon’s ghost who consults her on the workflow. In a further metaphysical twist, we see Moon In-hwan, the actor who plays both Je-hyeon and his lookalike, change into a different shirt to play his parallel identity. Thus, we are reminded that we are watching a Brecthian artifice. The filmmaker is challenging us to engage with the f ilm with intellectual detachment. Then through Soo-jin’s character, he throws us one final challenge. As the lookalike wants a hefty payment for his acting role, Soo-jin demands that he first tell her just what he likes about her husband’s script. She explains that her money is hard-earned. That given a choice, she would rather spend it on good food, watching a baseball game every week and doing something that makes her feel that she’s living life. But this question is also directed at us, and we are also asked to make a choice. Both short film versions are markedly different. The first version is less fluid, almost artless with a beginner’s touch, less engaging camera set ups, and even an unbalanced colour coordination when Ji-Young first appears in a garish yellow blouse that totally takes your attention away from the rest of the scene. And this prepares you for the comedic resolution of the short. The second version is more sombre, more artful and even hints of theatre, as mentioned above in the onscreen costume change. It also makes one think of Hong Sang Soo, with the character variations, the doubles, the meeting scenes along quiet roads and parks and the subtly changing emotions. But here’s the conflict and choice. Given that there are so much to see these days, we are thrown back to being the absent audience of Bappaditya Bandopadhyay’s Houseful, where arthouse filmmakers face a dwindling box office. You see, Soo-Jin’s question is a serious one; won’t you prefer to spend your money on good food, a baseball game every week and something that makes you feel you are living life? Or are you still driven by your obsession to make that one act of expression that defines your life?