It has been almost a year since Da-hye's (Song Hye-kyo) boyfriend, Sang-ho (Song Chang-ui), was killed in a road accident and she has already been convinced by church leaders to sign a "forgiveness petition" allowing the culprit of the crime to be released early from prison.
Commissioned (also by the church) to make a documentary to encourage others to sign similar petitions, Da-hye begins to interview various victims of violent crimes, helped by teenage abuse victim Ji-min (Nam Ji-hyun), sure in the knowledge that she is doing, and has done, the right thing.
However, as her interviews continue Da-hye is increasingly faced with the realisation that none of those she speaks to who have forgiven criminals and signed petitions have been able to find peace as a result or move on with their lives, and she finally decides to find out what happened to the man responsible for Sang-ho's death to ascertain if he is living as miserably as she is, and if not why not...

Alexander Pope, English poet & satirist, famously wrote "To err is human, to forgive divine" in his poem 'An Essay on Criticism, Part II', but can any of us say with certainty that we would be able to find it in our hearts to truly forgive someone who was responsible for the death of a loved one, and if we did would we later question that decision (even putting our faith to the test) if we were to discover that the guilty party feels no remorse for their crime and/or has committed other vicious acts since?
As we join A Reason to Live, Da-hye has already signed a "forgiveness petition" for the young motorcycle driver who knocked down, subsequently ran over and killed her boyfriend almost a year ago and she is currently in the process of filming various victims of violent crime or their families for a church documentary on the importance of forgiveness for crime victims and culprits alike, but as she listens to the painful stories of lives shattered and hopes and dreams destroyed she finds it increasingly difficult to rationalise her decision to forgive a man who has seemingly all too easily put Sang-ho's murder behind him and carried on with a life of violence, while she has remained in unending abject misery.
While A Reason to Live, on the surface, follows Da-hye's journey to discover and understand her true feelings; find a way to move on with her life and ultimately allow herself to grieve, it also uses this main character arc to dissect religious faith itself and ask to what extent a forgiving "turn the other cheek" mentality can ever be expected to alleviate the pain of loss or allow a broken heart (and life) to mend.

Though the repeated assertion that the legal system is geared far more towards the rights of the guilty than those of their victims and Da-hye's discovery that none of those who have signed forgiveness petitions have in any way found lasting peace or moved on with their lives are understandable (if again predictable) plot points, the one narrative thread that is, to my mind, frankly unbelievable is that of Da-hye's reaction to Ji-min's abuse. Ok, so family is, even today, an incredibly important aspect of Korean culture, but for someone as focused on doing the morally correct thing as Da-hye claims to be (and especially considering her considerable understanding of human pain) the fact that she is fully aware of the extent of Ji-min's abuse yet repeatedly states "They're your family, so you should be grateful to them" really doesn't ring true. While it's clear that Da-hye is trying to teach Ji-min how to understand and forgive, surely Ji-min's forgiving her father would only really be viable if the abuse had already ended and not while it's still going on and unlikely to cease.
Certainly it's likely that part of the reason for this aspect to be included was to underline Da-hye's slowly changing feelings about the concept of forgiveness but even with that being the case Da-hye is so wrapped up in her own journey that her changing feelings of the treatment of Ji-min are ultimately rather glossed over, apart from a single argument with Ji-min's brother. However, even here Da-hye brings that conversation quickly back to her own grief, pain and allocation of blame and the plight of Ji-min is largely set aside yet again.

A Reason to Live is almost bereft of musical accompaniment save for a handful of brief appearances in the most emotional moments (each lasting for less than a minute) and while this serves to underline the documentary feel of proceedings, when the music does feature it stands out conspicuously by its easier absence and sadly pulls viewers out of their immersion in the story - almost screaming "this is a poignant, heartbreaking moment" in the process. Ultimately, the few "tearful" moments are largely tearless from a viewer's point of view, in spite of any attempted musical coercion and while, for the most part, the avoidance of out-and-out melodramatics throughout the majority of the narrative is a rare step outside the norm, it sadly combines with this to result in proceedings often seeming rather dull.

Finally, in recent years, there have been increasing numbers of Korean films dealing with similar themes of religion and forgiveness but, of all these, A Reason to Live has been most compared to and contrasted with Lee Chang-dong's Secret Sunshine, both in the press and larger media. However, while the two films are undeniably thematically similar, their depictions are frankly poles apart and I truly believe that referencing the work of one of the greatest Korean directors (in my opinion, Lee Chang-dong can do no wrong) can achieve nothing but an underlining of the fact that A Reason to Live is the loser of the comparison, at every available turn.