She think she's a cyborg; he's an anti-social schizophrenic kleptomaniac who steals abstract concepts: together they fight crime fall in love. I'm a Cyborg But It's Okay is a Korean romcom by an acclaimed writer-director the Internet tells me I should probably have heard of, but actually - on account of being shocking uncultured - I haven't. Quite frankly it's a downright weird film, bewildering, absurd, funny and disconcerting all at once, but it's also genuinely lovely and includes some of the most unexpected and understated moments of romance I have ever seen on film and some really impressive yodelling.

Traumatized when her grandmother is sent off to the loony bin for believing she's a mouse, Young Goon becomes convinced she's a cyborg and is herself committed to a mental institution following an attempt to recharge her batteries by cutting open her wrists and implanting some wires into her skin. In the sanatorium she meets a selection of patients, including Park Il-sun who becomes fascinated by her when he sees her communing with vending machines and florescent lights. When Young-goon stops eating because she believes it will prevent her from fully realizing her cybernetic destiny, he takes it upon himself to save her life.

As you can probably tell from the summary, I'm a Cyborg But It's Okay is high on whimsy, low on ... well ... conventionally-making-sense. Despite its lack of anything you might recognisably term plot or resolution its themes and characters nevertheless come together to provide something that is deeply emotionally satisfying. And the film looks absolutely gorgeous; from scenes within the asylum to itself, to stylised violence, to flights of insane fantasy, the sheer visual imagination of it never falters for a moment and provides the perfect setting for its cast of the certifiably insane.

Needless to say, despite moments of violence and tragedy and a general appreciation for the strange and macabre (the opening scene shows Young Goon is diligently assembling a radio in a factory production line under soothingly-voiced instruction from a speaker, except that step seven is "cut wrist" and step eight "insert wires" is both terribly funny and terribly disturbing), the film remains light. Consequently, its portrayal of the inmates is rooted firmly in "zany loons" territory rather than One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, although always with sympathy and understanding. For example, given the suspicion and fear with which the mentally ill are often regarded and portrayed, Young Goon struggles with her mission to take revenge on the white coats for the loss of her grandmother because she feels sympathy with and for them. Even though madness can be seen as something that places a person "outside" of normal human interactions and responses, despite believing she is a cyborg, Young-goon is alienated but, ultimately, not so very different from the rest of us.

Therefore, even though it is never precisely a real or gritty portrayal of the mentally disturbed, it nevertheless feels stylistically and thematically appropriate. And the giddy randomness with which the film reels from comedy to tragedy, from the ridiculous to the desperately seriousness is similarly in keeping with its focus on the mad and the delusional. Young-goon's breakdown is both silly (she communes with florescent lights and vending machines) and dangerous (she won't eat and, is therefore, slowly dying) and profoundly lovely scene in which Il-Sun installs a rice-megatron in her so she can process human food typifies the delicate balancing act the film performs. This is further emphasised by the lack of visual anchors " although occasionally set within what are recognisably the walls of a mental institution, the film mostly inhabits the fantasy world of the institution's inhabitants. Thus private delusions become shared fantasies, colliding, overlapping and merging in unexpected and occasionally affirming ways.

Despite the whimsically of the style and the absurdity of the premise, it all works surprisingly well and offers a genuinely touching and romantic story. I suppose the process of two people falling in love other can be seen as essentially a movement from otherness to togetherness, for which madness provides a perfect metaphor.