Director Won Ho-yeon (원호연) has crafted a beautifully poetic and ethereal documentary with Captain Kang (강선장), an exploration of the life of a fishing captain who lost his legs in a tragic accident. From beginning to end the film is a sensitive depiction of an impaired working class figure, one that never slips into sentimentality or melodrama due to the even-handed direction. Without his legs, Captain Kang still resolutely refuses to quit fishing and his determination, coupled with his philosophical musings, convey a man of humility and dignity.
From the outset, Captain Kang’s attitude on life is superbly combined with the cinematography. As Kang discusses the concepts of freedom and the struggles of life, the stunning open waters and the hard but rewarding tasks of fishing are conveyed; when he explains the precognitive dream he had leading up to his accident, the waters are filled with supernaturals mists. In every case director Won conveys how Kang and the sea are united spiritually, and the gorgeous visuals and compelling fisherman make the documentary an enthralling experience.
Captain Kang and the ocean are spiritually connected
In developing the life of Kang, director Won contrasts the captain’s life at sea with that of his family on land. Such scenes are interesting as they convey the support of a humble family involved in the fishing industry, diligently working together at all hours in order to earn a living. Yet what is fascinating is that, while happy in the company of his family, Kang never seems wholly comfortable on land. As such the film loses some of its compulsion whenever the ship docks, as the captain’s character and his life at sea is so absorbing and interconnected that when they are separated it is keenly felt by the audience. Yet director Won attempts to make other members of the family interesting, notably the relationship between Kang and his son. The captain’s guilt for losing his legs – especially when he had a premonition – requires that his son join the family business rather than pursue his own desires. Yet the wonderful irony is that Kang’s remorse blinds him from seeing his son’s faults, adding another dimension – and a little comedy – to the proceedings.
Yet as great as it is to see the captain as a family man, Captain Kang always soars when on the ocean. The symbiotic nature of the humble captain and the sea – simultaneously his love and his nemesis – is constantly enthralling, and watching the leg-less fisherman brave the perils of the job is as entertaining as it is fascinating.
Captain Kang is a wonderfully ethereal journey
Verdict:
Captain Kang is a beautifully ethereal documentary about a fisherman who refuses to let his lack of legs stop him working. Wisely eschewing any sentimentality, director Won Ho-yeon captures the humble and modest captain’s life with dignity, conveying their symbiotic relationship through the wonderful cinematography and Kang’s philosophising. Poetic and captivating, Captain Kang is a consistently compelling exploration of working class pride.
The Korean education system is infamous for it’s grueling and oppressive culture, and the stress imposed on youngsters has often been the subject of film. Typically such themes appear in the form of teenage horrors, such as the successful Whispering Corridors series, whereby the pressures of constant examinations and competition from other students prove too much to bear for their very souls.
With Pluto (명왕성), director Shin Su-won (신수원) takes a dramatic-thriller approach to the topic and the result is fantastic. Employing the technical prowess and artistic sensibilities that earned her the Canal Plus prize for her short Circle Line (순환선) at Cannes, director Shin deftly explores the weighty subject matter with skill. Even more impressive is that Pluto manages to straddle both the independent aesthetic realm as well as more mainstream territory, a remarkable achievement given that it’s only her second feature film. While some critics have lamented the inclusion of more generic features, it is a wise move on director Shin’s part as it solidifies her name through the industry as a talent to watch.
At a highly prestigious high school that produces some of the most elite students in Korea, top student Yun-jin (Seong Joon (성준) is found murdered in a nearby forest. Immediately suspected is frosty roommate Joon (David Lee (이다윗), yet with a sound alibi his release is assured. Yet Joon knows much more about the circumstances surrounding Yun-jin’s death than he reveals, and gathers the most elite student group at school together to discover the killer.
The elite students run the school, forging a secret society
Pluto begins with all the hallmarks of a highly competent independent thriller, as Yun-jin is stalked in the woods until he meets his untimely demise in suitably shocking fashion. Yet from such humble beginnings director Shin skillfully intertwines such low-budget aesthetics with thriller conventions, as prime suspect Joon is immediately questioned by detectives; however his intelligence proves too great for the officers to cope with, and with zero evidence, he is released. Both realms are consolidated incredibly well through the use of the non-linear narrative as Joon – sporting rebellious blue hair – in the present holds suspects captive as time counts down, while flashbacks to Joon’s admission to the school convey the character driven foundations.
The method is wonderfully effective in articulating the intense pressures enforced on students, whilst simultaneously providing each member of the school motive for Yun-jin’s murder. Director Shin approaches the topic with keen insight – perhaps unsurprising given her history as a teacher – as she emphasises how parental wealth, greedy tutors, and corrupt school officials are all accountable in the creation of highly intelligent yet morally questionable youths. And their actions are certainly unconscionable, as awful acts of cruelty are performed within the elite secret society of top tier students, ranging from sexual assault, bullying, bludgeoning animals and vandalism that ultimately result in suicide and murder.
Acts of vandalism are overlooked by officials in the bid to produce the best candidates
Yet as ‘evil’ as their deeds are, director Shin fully develops each elite student as a victim in their own right. The lack of parental guidance and the encouraged desire to win at any cost pushes them into psychological instability. Their wildly spinning moral compass is, director Shin conveys, the result of a fundamentally corrupt education and class system that is doomed to repeat itself. The narrative wonderfully explores what happens when someone dares to challenge such a system through Joon, as he attempts to breach a social and educational class supposedly beyond his reach. Joon’s creativity and alternative perspective on life is brilliantly realised through his discussion on Pluto’s demotion, a theory that superbly encapsulates the very essence of the story – the belief that the sun/exam results are the center of the universe/life is not only flawed but wholly arrogant.
Lee David (이다윗) is highly competent in his performance as Joon. The novice actor does well in conveying an initially hopeful and interesting young man whose jealousy and desire leads him on a darker path. As his originality and creativity are quashed for the sake of exam results, the transformation into amorality is wholly believable.
Yet despite so many positive accomplishments, the final act was lamented by some critics for its use of generic conventions. This is an understandable criticism although one that is somewhat nitpicking. What director Shin has achieved with Pluto is remarkable, as she has taken a film with a keen social message and made it mainstream; a two-for-one in promoting debate on a serious Korean issue as well as solidifying her reputation as director of talent.
The intense stress and competition becomes to much to bear for Joon
Verdict:
Pluto is an excellent exploration of the intense Korean education system, and the highly intelligent yet morally questionable youth that it creates. It’s a stunning feature film from director Shin Su-won, whose keen eye for symbolism and character study is articulated throughout. One of the great strengths of the film is the manner in which director Shin combines both the independent aesthetic with the mainstream thriller, simultaneously promoting debate on an important social issue as well as cementing herself as a quality director. Thoroughly recommended.
The 17th Puchon International Fantastic Film Festival
The Puchon International Fantastic Film Festival – or PiFan, for short – is gearing up for its 17th installment commencing this coming July 18th and running through to the 28th.
As is always the case with PiFan, the focus on genre films means a quite eclectic range of screenings from a variety of countries, and the 2013 edition continues the trend. A total of 219 films – 133 feature films and 86 shorts – from 40 countries are on offer, opening with the Asian premiere of animated all-star cast feature The Congress by director Ari Folman, and closing with the World Premiere of Korean film The Terror Live (더 테러 라이브) by director Kim Byeong U (김병우).
The Congress
Opening Film – The Congress
Israeli director Ari Folman, who previously made waves with Waltz With Bashir in 2008, finally returns to the director’s chair with The Congress. An international co-production between Israel, Germany, France, Luxembourg Poland and Belgium, The Congress features an all-star cast in a story that sees Robin Wright ‘sell’ her image to create a digital actress. However in doing so she can never act again, and more importantly, she loses all rights in the control of her very image. Please see below for the trailer:
The Terror Live (더 테러 라이브)
Closing Film –The Terror Live (더 테러 라이브)
PiFan wraps up the festival with the world premiere of Korean film The Terror Live (더 테러 라이브). Director Kim Byeong U’s (김병우) thriller features Ha Jeong-woo (하정우) as disgraced anchorman-turned-radio host Yoon Young-Hwa. When a terrorist calls the show threatening to blow up a bridge, Yoon calls it a hoax – only for the bridge to explode. Believing this to be an opportunity to become a TV anchorman once more, Yoon works hard to become involved in the incident, only for it to escalate even further. Please see below for the trailer:
Furthermore, PiFan will feature several films by some of the most prolific directors working today, including Johnnie To – Blind Detective, Drug War -, Miike Takshi – Shield of Straw, Lesson of Evil – and a special program dedicated to Japanese director Tsukamoto Shinya – Tetsuo, The Iron Man, Tetsuo II: The Body Hammer, Tokyo Fist, Bullet Ballet, A Snake of June and Kotoko.
Cult films will be present in the Ourselves, Our Robots: The Thin Line Between Human and Robot showcase, featuring the likes of THX 1138, Robocop, Manborg, The Machine, and Computer Chess. Meanwhile Urban Cult: The Dark Side of the City will feature The Warriors, Escape From New York, Maniac, Maniac Cop 2 and Vigilante.
The best kinds of documentary are the ones where the audience and those within the film itself undertake the same journey of discovery, sharing revelations and introspections about a particular topic that ultimately change the perspectives of those both sides of the camera. This is acutely the case with director Park Moon-chil’s My Place, a highly personal account of the director’s own family history and trauma. Director Park explores the inherently Korean cultural clashes of traditional ideology versus the contemporary, Western individualism contrasted with Eastern collectivism, as well as gender and family politics, all through the microcosm of his own family unit. Beginning with very traditional concerns over his unmarried sister’s pregnancy, the documentary charts how every member of the Park family is forced to re-examine themselves, their pasts, and their choices in order to welcome the new member into the fold. From beginning to end My Place is a heartwarming and illuminating film, thanks in no small part to the director’s wonderfully strong and charismatic sister who challenges familial and cultural issues head-on and emerges victorious.
Cross-cultural trauma and single motherhood are problematic topics in Korea
Director Park’s sister Peace is very much the heart and soul of My Place, and the documentary is largely centered around the ramifications of her decision to be a single mother. In Korean culture unwed mothers are heavily stigmatized, and the film begins by attempting to address her perceived irresponsibility and whether abortion is a viable option. Yet as director Park converses about the issue with his parents, he begins to re-evaluate his own understanding of his sisters character through considering their shared history, and by interviewing her about her past and the pregnancy. The technique is superb, as the non-judgmental approach allows for layers of psychology and past traumas to be re-examined, and how they impact the decisions of the present. For instance, the film explores how the siblings were born and raised in Toronto which allowed their individuality and creativity to be nurtured, yet their forced relocation back to Korea at a young age provided an enormous culture shock that was difficult to cope with; the director even noting that school assemblies reminded him of the Nazis. The impact was greatest on Peace however, and the home videos and photographs of her childhood authentically capture her fraught and difficult childhood.
Old home videos add authenticity to the journey the family undertake
Director Park also applies such frameworks to his mother and father, and in doing so discovers more about what drove them in their youth and what shaped their decision-making processes so long ago. With the revelations of Peace’s unhappy childhood it would be all too easy to blame his parents, and while they indeed acknowledge responsibility for their choices, delving into their history stops the issue from being simple. Such scenes are brilliantly edited within the documentary not only for their seamlessness, but the constantly compelling revelations regarding his parents inspires audience introspection. Each member of the Park household is a fascinating person forged by history, and the loving care that director Park exhibits when filming them is palpable. This particularly applies in regard to Peace, as the directors respect and admiration for his sister clearly grows and develops during the course of the film.
Ironically what forces the family to re-evaluate themselves is the very thing that causes them worry – Peace’s pregnancy. And when her son Soul is born, witnessing the family gathering together and become stronger than ever is extremely poignant. Director Park charts the very early years of Soul’s life in similarly effective style, exploring how each member attempts to find a role in which to provide help and support, and the results are consistently moving, humourous and entertaining. Watching Peace working hard as a single mother, and Soul as he develops a personality of his own, is powerfully absorbing and captured with tenderness and sensitivity. One such scene involves Soul and his grandfather reading a storybook together, and the attempt to bestow morality lessons on the youngster is a beautifully funny moment. Director Park – and the audience – come to realise that the initial concerns over Peace’s pregnancy were unfounded, and that the strength and resilience she exhibits as a single mother are incredibly admirable. As such, My Place is emblematic of changing cultural attitudes, and is a wonderful testament to the love and bonds shared within the family.
Family trauma is revisited and healed through the birth of Peace
Verdict:
My Place is a funny, enlightening, and wonderful documentary about the importance of family. By using his unwed sisters pregnancy as a catalyst, director Park Moon-chil uses his concerns as a springboard in which to explore the history and psychology of his mother, father, and most predominantly his sister Peace. In doing so director Park shares his revelations and changing attitudes with the audience, with each step constantly compelling as the family attempt to heal past traumas in order to welcome the new baby. A superb and lovely documentary.
The sexual slavery inflicted upon the women of Korea during the Japanese occupation is an oft-discussed topic in Korean culture, with the euphemistically labelled ‘comfort women’ still striving for acknowledgement of the abuses they suffered. Less debated, however, is how the Korean government similarly forced such atrocities upon the women of the country for the pleasure of the American military, which was required in order to keep ‘peace’ on the peninsula. The hypocrisy involved has been a genuine source of frustration amongst feminists, particularly in regards to terminology – as money was exchanged for such sexual services with the American GIs, the women are often referred to as ‘prostitutes’ despite the subjugation imposed upon them.
Tour of Duty opens with a heartbreaking tale
Tour of Duty (거미의 땅), by directors Kim Dong-ryung (김동령) and Park Kyoung-tae (박경태), is a documentary that seeks to address the experiences of such ‘forgotten’ women. The film explores the lives of women forced to provide sexual services in a military town in the Uijeongbu area, and the affects of a history of sexual bondage. It is a heart-breaking and gut-wrenching viewing experience as the handful of women who still live in the now dilapidated town share their stories, and the poignancy is difficult to overstate. Directors Kim and Park do well in simply allowing their subjects to recount their traumatic pasts and their own distinct personalities, accompanied by some very attractive cinematography that exemplifies the twisted, labyrinthian landscape of not only the area but also the psychological trauma within. Yet despite such initial potency Tour of Duty loses focus and compulsion due to each director attempting to impart their own creativity on the film, resulting in an incredibly overly-long running time of two and a half hours.
A former ‘prostitute’ throws candy at evil spirits while cursing American GIs.
Tour of Duty opens in suitably powerful style, as a now-elderly lady discusses some of the awful abuses she suffered when the military town was fully operational. The frank, almost confessional-tone of the conversation which includes the number of sexual partners and abortions she endured in her youth is beyond moving, while the resilience and resolve that developed as a result is incredible to witness. Similarly, the other women within the documentary are also highly compelling as they recount not only their tragic history, but their current life of squalor. One such woman, who became infected with a venereal disease from an African-American soldier, walks around the desolated military town throwing candies to ward off evil spirits while screaming racial obscenities about the man who gave her the affliction. Another traverses the myriad of maze-like pathways searching through refuse, lamenting the loss of her children. Directors Kim and Park employing stunning cinematography for each woman, employing different and very effective cinematic techniques for each in order to convey the disparate characters within the film. One of the most powerful images in the film comes when trying to locate the town itself on a map. As the camera moves across the Uijeongbu district, the sheer number of former military towns starkly articulates that the women featured within Tour of Duty are symbolic of a great many such stories in the area.
Yet the documentary becomes problematic when it begins to explore the life of an African-American/Korean orphan. Her history, involving childhood abduction by the authorities and forced prostitution – in which she often made to ‘service’ up to 15 soldiers a day – is no less harrowing than the other pasts being recounted. However the manner in which her story is told is highly expressionistic and completely at odds with the prior documentarian aesthetic. As such it is very clear that two directors are collaborating, with their alternative visions never managing to form a cohesive whole. The result is two films that have been edited together in a rather rudimentary fashion, which detracts from the incredible poignancy of what came before. This also gives rise to the other big issue with the film in the form of the two and a half hour running time, which is far, far too long. This is a genuine shame as had the two quite different films been edited separately both would be much stronger pieces of film, particularly the superb documentarian aesthetic in which Tour of Duty began.
A Korean-American orphan explores the old brothels she was forced to work in
Verdict:
Tour of Duty is a powerful documentary about the sexual abuses suffered by Korean women in an American military town in the Uijeongbu district. The stories of sexual slavery are harrowing and poignant, while the government role by both Korea and America in the atrocities, as well as the ‘forgotten’ status of the women, makes for an important and sometimes upsetting viewing experience. Yet the film loses traction as directors Kim Dong-ryung and Park Kyoung-tae seek to impose their quite different visual styles – the documentarian and the experimentalist – and the two disparate aesthetic styles never combine into a cohesive whole and make an overly-long running time of two and a half hours. Despite this, Tour of Duty is a potent reminder of crimes from the recent past that should not be forgotten.
Kim Tae-yong (김태용) is one of the few directors working in the Korean film industry who actively gives women a ‘voice’. Rather than define female protagonists through relationships or position them as objects/commodities, director Kim’s films are consistently compelling through the articulation of fully-formed women’s roles.
You Are More Than Beautiful (그녀의 연기) fits very much within such a framework. Indeed, the Korean titles literally translates as ‘Her Performance‘, an ironic title referring to both the director’s sensibilties as well as Gong Hyo-jin’s (공효진) outstanding acting talent. The 25 minute Hong Kong co-production is a highly charismatic short film, and despite the limited time frame manages to portray a lovingly nuanced and very entertaining romantic tale.
Upon learning of his terminally ill father’s condition, Jeju Islander Cheol-su (Park Hee-soon (박희순) must quickly return to his hometown to say a final farewell. However, wishing to show his father that he will be taken care of, Cheol-su hires an actress, Yeong-hee (Gong Hyo-jin), to act as his fiancee. Upon meeting the actress at the airport, Cheol-su quickly discovers Yeong-hee’s incredible positivity and charisma as she tries her utmost to fulfill her role.
Yeong-hee and Cheol-su meet at the airport, ready for their roles
First and foremost, the reason You Are More Than Beautiful is such a lovely short film is due to the superb performance of Gong Hyo-jin. From the moment she enters the film at the airport through to the final credits, the actress is constantly charismatic and it’s impossible not to be won over by her positivity. The title is particularly apt as Gong Hyo-jin is indeed very attractive, yet that is not what defines her character. It is Yeong-hee’s indomitable spirit and her cheeky-yet-playful personality that makes her so compelling to watch. Whether taking pictures in the countryside to reinforce the charade, or simply having a conversation to discover Cheol-su’s personality, Yeong-hee is a beautiful person both inside and out. Yet where the protagonist really shines in in meeting her fake fiancé’s terminally ill father. Her rendition of traditional Korean opera, as well as her interactions with the elderly gentleman, are a joy to behold due to the poignancy and heartwarming comedy embodied by the actress.
Actor Park Hee-soon also provides a great foil as stoic and sombre Cheol-su. The reason for his melancholy seems to go beyond his father’s illness, with the washed out colour palette conveying his depression well. Watching Cheol-su’s reluctance to engage with Yeong-hee’s positivity is wonderfully entertaining, as her zest for life slows chips away at his cold exterior yet he still attempts to keep her at a distance. The mismatched couple convey more heart and emotional connection than most films manage in three times the length, which is an incredible feat.
To flesh out the facade, the couple discover each other’s traits
Director Kim has stated that prior to filming You Are More Than Beautiful, all he prepared were the camera and the cast. This is quite surprising as the cinematography is very attractive throughout the film, particularly the manner in which the natural beauty of Jeju Island is captured. The roads and paths, as well as the horse farm, highlight the unspoiled nature of the island and as such conveys the romanticism with which Jeju has become renowned. Similarly, while the great outdoors looks gorgeous, director Kim employs some wonderful symmetrical shots to emphasis different stages of the evolving relationship between Yeong-hee and Cheol-su to great effect.
Yet despite such praise, the film isn’t quite perfect. It’s a credit to director Kim and the actors involved that although a lot of events occur during the 25 minute running time, there is still a desire for more. This certainly could have been achieved with more development ascribed to Cheol-su, whose character isn’t as fully-formed as Yeong-hee. Yet with Gong Hyo-jin on such amazing form it is entirely understandable, as her enthralling charisma and grace make the film so compelling.
Actress Gong Hyo-jin is wonderfully charismatic as Yeong-hee
Verdict:
You Are More Than Beautiful is a delightful short film by director Kim Tae-yong. As one of the few directors in the Korean film industry creating fully-developed female roles his films are always interesting, and actress Gong Hyo-jin takes full advantage of the opportunity to perform her acting talent. Throughout the film she is utterly compelling and wonderfully charismatic, living up to the title as her passion for life and positivity make her more than an attractive women. A lovely short film.
The revenge thriller is often synonymous with Korean cinema, thanks largely to the successes of director Park Chan-wook and his contemporaries. Yet with the exception of Lady Vengeance, this realm of darkness and violence is very much dominated by men. Despite their stake in the evils perpetuated on the characters, women are marginalized into supporting roles while righteous torture and murder are masculine concerns.
Azooma (공정사회) changes that by having the central female protagonist directly involved in the action, in conjunction with tapping into socio-cultural concerns of child rape and a corrupt and overly-lenient legal system. Due to such content it’s perhaps unsurprising that Azooma – a variation on the spelling of ‘ajumma’, meaning middle-aged woman – is an independent production, giving director Lee Ji-seung (이지승) the freedom to pursue such cathartic female-lead violence. However this freedom is also the films undoing particularly in regard to the editing, which detracts from an otherwise thrilling revenge tale.
A single mother (Jang Young-nam (장영남) is late picking up her daughter Yeon-joo (Lee Jae-hee (이재희) from school, and as the 10 year old walks home alone she is abducted and raped by a man (Hwang Tae-gwang (황태광). Luckily finding Yeon-joo after the incident, the ajumma immediately takes her daughter to hospital for surgery and contacts her estranged husband (Bae Seong-woo, 배성우) for help. Yet he is more concerned with his own reputation, while the detective in charge of the case (Ma Dong-seok (마동석) seemingly couldn’t care less about apprehending the criminal. Devastated by the impotency of law enforcement, the ajumma decides to take the law into her own hands and find the paedophile herself.
Yeon-joo is abducted by a stranger after school
The original Korean title ‘공정사회’ means ‘fair society’, and the irony is certainly not lost in translation. One of the great strengths of Azooma is the manner in which patriarchy as a whole is conveyed as responsible for what happens to Yeon-joo. Director Lee portrays an array of misogynistic issues that combine to place both mother and daughter as victims within contemporary society, and not just from a crime. Indeed, the reason the ajumma is late to meet Yeon-joo after school is due to a business meeting with a creepy older man, featuring some potent close-ups of her pulling down her skirt and covering herself to avert his gaze. Yet by far the most villainous character in the film is Yeon-joo’s father, who encapsulates the hypocrisy and selfishness of contemporary masculinity acutely well. He is of the ideology that sex is something ‘shameful’ for a female, and his fury that Yeon-joo is taken to a hospital where he knows people is as shockingly offensive as it is sickeningly real. Merely concerned for his own reputation rather than his daughter’s well being, the father brilliantly articulates the survival of traditional misogyny in modern society and serves to build frustration and pressure – for both the ajumma and the audience – incredibly well.
While it may come as a shock to some, Azoomais actually based on a true story. Director Lee does a great job in targeting the overly lenient law system for sex offenders as lacking any credibility, and ultimately forcing the ajumma to locate the criminal alone. Building on issues raised by prior films such as Silenced(also based on a true story) and Poetry, Azooma deftly conveys that even if Detective Ma were concerned with apprehending the paedophile, the criminal would most probably receive a light sentence – perhaps even as little as six months. The scenes in which the paedophile covers any trace of his DNA are simultaneously frightening and repulsive, as it is quite clear that this is not the first time he has committed such an act, and with the indifferent attitude of the police force it will not be the last. The unbelievable obstructions of justice caused by men prompt the ajumma to search for the criminal herself using clues provided by her daughter, and amazingly she finds him. It is here however that the true story ends as the ajumma confronts her daughter’s attacker, leading to suspense-filled sequences.
Due to ineffective police work, the ajumma tracks the criminal herself
While director Lee builds tension well and continually provides acute criticism of contemporary Korean masculinity and their institutions, he is also given too much free reign in the post-production department. The editing within Azooma is the downfall of the film, as there is simply far too much non-linear editing over the course of the film. There are so many jumps to different times and events that often the suspense and desire for revenge, which took time and effort to generate, dissipates. This is a genuine shame as had the editing been a little more linear, the film would be arguably much more poignant and powerful.
Despite such criticisms the film manages to right itself in a quite thrilling final act in which the ajumma, completely dejected by the maltreatment she and Yeon-joo have suffered, seeks retribution. Simultaneously difficult yet enthralling to watch, the scenes of torture last long in the memory as the ajumma dishes out her own unique brand of justice. It is a testament to the issues within the film that such violence is not only desirable, but actually feels too short; even with the torture, it still seems as if the criminal didn’t suffer enough. It is wonderfully impressive to finally see a Korean woman at the helm of such violence. Even in Lady Vengeance, Geum-ja exists to provide vengeance for other grieving parents. With Azooma, the audience can witness a woman directly affected by a crime take control of the situation and emerge reborn. While all the loose ends are tied up a little too neatly, the violence is highly cathartic while the narrative itself contains numerous areas of debate, and as such Azooma is an impressive revenge thriller.
Disillusioned with patriarchal institutions, the ajumma prepares for her own brand of justice
Verdict:
Azooma is a potent revenge thriller concerned with a mother who seeks retribution after her daughter is raped. Director Lee Ji-seung wonderfully conveys the temperament of the ajumma as she is pushed to breaking point by patriarchal society, and it is enthralling to see a Korean woman at the helm of such violence as it is such a rarity. While the non-linear editing is overly used to the point of dissipating the tension, the narrative is consistently compelling as misogyny is explored, corruption and leniency in law enforcement is exposed, and a female protagonist enacts arguably justifiable vigilante torture.
hangukyeonghwa.com 