One day, 18-year-old Sojung stumbles upon an old diary. Inside, she discovers her sister's loneliness, farewells with friends, and simple everyday moments. Confronting these forgotten childhood memories, Sojung begins to understand her sister and their past. She then chooses to embrace the present moments of someone's day with care.

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Byeongho has always wanted to be a musician, but the harsh realities of life have forced him to prepare for a civil servant job, which is far from his passion. However, his love of music persists in his mind. When he happens to meet a homeless person, Byeongho begins to rethink his future.

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Just 0.2 seconds after a sound wave reaches the cochlea, the brain interprets the vibrations as a sound with unique qualities of distance, direction and speed. The emotions and meanings we attach to each sound are subjective. 　　Hyejin Jung realized this when she started hearing a constant buzzing in her right ear. Her doctor's explanation was that her ear was becoming a machine. While at the hospital she met Somchai, a construction worker with the same complaint, and they started to compare the ways their bodies sound on the inside. 　　In this fusion of medical reporting, societal reflection, soundscape, and personal poetic self-examination Jung reveals through image and sound just how thin the dividing line is between sound and noise. Going beyond her own, individual experience—which ranges from mind-blowing to claustrophobic—she argues that the powers that be regard the voices of marginalized people (who often perform work that causes hearing damage) as noise, and combat it as such.

This expanded cinema explores the hypnotic grip of film and questions its role in shaping our memories and perceptions long after the credits roll. 　　In Undercurrent’s first-ever expanded cinema piece, performer-director HeeSue Kwon reimagines the filmic experience. The projector extends itself beyond a mechanical device: it transforms into a living entity, reanimating the collective memories of its audience. Through Kwon’s live manipulation of flickers and intervals, the cinematic apparatus gains autonomy, continuously looping and coming alive. 　　Using a reverse diffusion model, Melting Fire Iceman employs AI to portray the fluid, shifting nature of cinema’s core memories. Early films, drawn from online repositories and the Korean Film Archive, are dissolved and reimagined by AI, seemingly in an infinite cycle of rebirth. In this mesmerising process, the boundaries between memory, spectatorship and the cinematic experience are redefined.