Hee-soo confronts ex-boyfriend Byeong-woo about his unpaid debt

My Dear Enemy (멋진 하루) – ★★★★☆

My Dear Enemy (멋진 하루)

My Dear Enemy (멋진 하루)

With his non-invasive, realism-infused vision, director Lee Yoon-ki’s (이윤기) films are wonderfully character driven as he explores the fragility and complexity of modern relationships. My Dear Enemy (멋진 하루) is very much set within such a framework, as the director subtly peels away the psychological and emotional layers of two ex-lovers who join forces for a day. With his palpable sensitivity and rejection of cliches, director Lee has crafted a poignant examination of the difficulties of early thirty-somethings in contemporary Korea, and their hopes and desires in forming lasting relationships. While the impetus wanes during the final third of the film, My Dear Enemy is an incredibly charming film bolstered by tender and captivating performances by Jeon Do-yeon and Ha Jeong-woo.

 Searching high and low in a betting office, Kim Hee-soo (Jeon Do-yeon (전도연) has almost given up hope of finding ex-boyfriend Jo Byeong-woon (Ha Jeong-woo (하정우). She doesn’t wish to reconcile, however; Hee-soo wants the large sum of money she lent Byeong-woo a year ago and is determined to retrieve it. Finally locating her happy-go-lucky ex, Byeong-woo claims he doesn’t have the money but, with some effort, he can repay her by the end of the day. Afraid he will disappear as before, Hee-soo chaperones Byeong-woo as he collects the money during the course of the day, and as time passes they begin to understand each other more deeply than they thought possible.

Hee-soo confronts ex-boyfriend Byeong-woo about his unpaid debt

Hee-soo confronts ex-boyfriend Byeong-woon about his unpaid debt

Right from the start, director Lee employs his trademark opening long take to absorb the audience into the narrative, following resolute Hee-soo as she traverses a squalid gambling den in search of Byeong-woon. The technique is highly effective in constructing realism as well as provoking curiosity, so that when conflict finally occurs it feels both natural and rewarding. The initial confrontation highlights how wonderfully characterized Hee-soo and Byeong-woon are, with her determination, cynicism and anal retentiveness in stark contrast to his easygoing, considerate, and positive attitude. The differences between them give rise to the question as to why they became a couple in the first place, yet once this minor detail is overlooked what follows are incredibly compelling interactions as the former lovers converse and quarrel, coming to understand each other more clearly than ever before. As Byeong-woon is penniless himself, both he and Hee-soo travel together as he attempts to borrow funds from friends and acquaintances, placing them in a variety of situations that force the duo to re-examine their ideologies and lives. Director Lee uses each opportunity to not only interrogate his protagonists but also contemporary Korean society, and how it has shaped an entire generation now in their thirties. Given the crux of the reunion is debt, financial issues abound in conjunction with marital pressures and gender roles, each explored from an alternative perspective as additional characters are introduced. The subtle sophistication of each encounter is a real delight.

Yet My Dear Enemy is also notable for the captivating performances of A-listers Jeon Do-yeon and Ha Jeong-woo. Director Lee’s distinctive sensitivity and compassion calls for a particular style and quality of acting, and the two gifted stars fulfill their roles with the utmost sincerity. Jeon Do-yeon is wonderfully cynical and stubborn as Hee-soo, exhibiting a frosty and distancing demeanor that initially makes her unlikeable. However through Byeong-woon’s positivity and kindness, as well as a re-examining  of priorities due to their shared experiences, the subtle changes that Hee-soo undergoes are deftly exuded by Jeon as she slowly softens into a more considerate person.

Hee-soo spends time with Byeong-woon's family, learning more about his past

Hee-soo spends time with Byeong-woon’s family, learning more about his past

Of the two, Ha Jeong-woo arguably has the more challenging role in portraying the down-on-his-luck yet affable Byeong-woon. His kindness and generosity convey a palpable positivity, yet it is his natural charisma that makes the character so lovable and draws people closer. The actor superbly sidesteps any potential ‘playboy’ implications by emphasising naivety as a trait which is often scorned by Hee-soo, indicating that while the former lovers are quite different their attributes actually help to make each other stronger.

While the performances and the evolving relationship are a joy to watch, the film begins to falter in the final third. Director Lee seems unsure of how to lead the protagonists through to some form of finale, and a series of missteps detract from the journey they’re on. Just as Hee-soo and Byeong-woon begin to learn from and understand one another, their development is suddenly cut short and while such scenes are occasionally romantic, they could have easily been condensed without interrupting the revelations they discover. Yet luckily the film manages to right itself during the final moments, allowing the couple to convey their fundamental changes while also not taking the easy way out. As such, My Dear Enemy a highly poignant and uplifting film, and in-keeping with the compassionate sensitivity for which director Lee is renowned.

Over the course of the day, Hee-soo's priotrities begin to change

Over the course of the day, Hee-soo’s priotrities begin to change

Verdict:

My Dear Enemy is a charming and moving slice of realism from director Lee Yoon-ki, whose trademark sensitivity and compassion are fully on display. Bolstered by wonderful performances from Jeon Do-yeon and Ha Jeong-woo, the film is a sophisticated yet subtle exploration of the thirty-something generation and their relationships, as well as an interrogation of the role of Korean culture in such matters. As such, the drama is mature and sincere throughout, displaying some the best Korean filmmaking talent at their most sensitive.

★★★★☆

Reviews
The detective discovers Joon's psychometry ability the hard way

The Gifted Hands (AKA Psychometry) (사이코메트리) – ★☆☆☆☆

The Gifted Hands (사이코메트리)

The Gifted Hands (사이코메트리)

When supernatural elements feature within a thriller film, the production can go one of two ways. The suspense generated from the unknown can heighten the intensity of the events that unfold, adding an original spin to the genre; or, on the other hand, the abilities and powers can appear as cheap gimmicks that add a decidedly silly dimension to the proceedings. The Gifted Hands – aka Psychometry (사이코메트리) – easily falls into the latter category, although between this, the horrendous script, and the appalling acting, it is difficult to know where exactly to fully place the blame for such a ridiculous, vacuous film. Director Kwon Ho-young (권호영) attempts to generate tension amongst his generally competent direction, but it’s not enough to save the frankly awful thriller from being instantly forgettable.

The joke of his precinct, detective Yang Choon-dong (Kim Kang-woo (김강우) regularly causes trouble for his superiors and rarely solves cases. His ineffective style has made him an outsider in the police force, so when a woman reports her daughter as kidnapped he takes the case while the others scoff. When the girl is later found murdered and a scapegoat is required, Choon-dong is blamed and suspended. Distraught, the detective happens upon some graffiti that accurately portrays events of the murder in a startling amount of detail. Tracking down the artist responsible, Choon-dong discovers that the young man named Joon (Kim Beom (김범) has the supernatural ability of psychometry, the power to see events through touch, and the duo set out to catch the murderer before he strikes again.

Detective Choon-dong happens upon artist Joon as he portrays events from the murder

Detective Choon-dong happens upon artist Joon as he portrays events from the murder

The Gifted Hands begins badly, only to become progressively worse. Ignoring the fundamental rule of the thriller genre in hooking the audience within the opening sequence, the scenes of Joon painting the location of the murder are dull yet are also a huge editing faux pas as the scene actually takes place a good twenty minutes later in the movie. Following the opening credits, the film’s ‘true’ beginning takes place during an over-zealous pyramid scheme in which detective Yang is a participant. Immediately the ineffective cop is portrayed as an utter idiot through these attempts at comedy which are not in the least bit funny, as Yang desperately tries to save his dignity and the reputation of the force from his blunder. The detective is clearly an underdog cliche evolving from bumbling fool to responsible cop, which in itself is no bad thing were it not for the awful acting by Kim Kang-woo. The actor performs the ineffective cop as a manic-depressive petulant child, flitting between whining like a teenager to bursts of violence. To be fair to Kim the script also calls for such absurdity in the attempt to provide multiple genres, clearly a cynical move to attract all but ultimately pleasing none, yet the actor certainly doesn’t help himself.

While detective Yang’s story is foregrounded, bizarrely Joon is sidelined. For a film containing supernatural features, Joon’s psychometry abilities appear more like an afterthought rather than the basis for the thriller, so much so that the protagonist infrequently appears throughout. Despite Joon’s cliched emo melancholy – black clothing, hoody, creative talent, misunderstood, etc etc – actor Kim Beom provides an adequate performance, although he is intended to look sullen and attractive for the most part. His psychometry ability is woefully under-utilized within the context of the narrative as well as inherently misunderstood by the writer. During the first of only two times in which Joon uses art to express his gift, it is explained that he was able to do so in such incredible detail, featuring moments from various points throughout the timeline of the murder, because he touched a pigeon who was passing overhead. Seriously.

The detective discovers Joon's psychometry ability the hard way

The detective discovers Joon’s psychometry ability the hard way

Such ridiculous logic continues to arise as the investigation for the killer, and a newly abducted victim, moves forward. For no reason other than detective Yang is in need of a car, he teams up with a petty criminal sidekick who informs the cop that as the first girl was found frozen before she was buried, the killer must be a single man. The reason? All single men freeze their trash before throwing it out. As the graffiti artist depicting the murder, Joon is of course the chief suspect, but as he doesn’t freeze his trash, he is immediately discounted as the criminal. Such instances are incredibly frustrating, as flimsy hunches are employed and conducted with no solid evidence or basis, making it a wonder how any crimes are solved within this particular district. Yet for all of detective Yang’s newfound verve for solving the case, the kidnapping is ironically dropped from the narrative in order to develop the ‘bromance’ between him and Joon – through more comedy and psychologically unbalanced violence. A brief respite appears in the form of potential love interest Seung-gi (승기, Esom (이솜), although as she appears twice and provides nothing of merit the character is wholly unnecessary.

For all of the silliness, director Kwon Ho-young does a competent job at the helm, and attempts to inject the film with tension and suspense whenever the script allows. He does well for the most part, that is until the asinine logic kicks in once more. Locating the murderer is well-staged while the mise-en-scene of the apartment is suitably morbid, yet the compulsion is completely lost when the psychopath begins monologuing about how he simply has no reason or motivation for what he does – only to later explain it anyway. The Gifted Hands is a great example of interesting concept, lazy execution.

Joon must put his abilities to good use to stop the murderer

Joon must put his abilities to good use to stop the murderer

Verdict:

The Gifted Hands spectacularly fails as a supernatural thriller. Featuring an awful script full of holes and bizarre logic, bad acting particularly from the (unintentionally) mentally unbalanced central protagonist, as well as wasting the potential of psychometry itself, the film really is a shambles. Director Kwon Ho-young performs competently at the helm, but it is not enough to save the vacuous thriller from being instantly forgettable.

★☆☆☆☆

Reviews
Going South (남쪽으로 간다)

Going South (남쪽으로 간다) – ★★★☆☆

Going South (남쪽으로 간다)

Going South (남쪽으로 간다)

In exploring the issues of homosexuality within the Korean military, director Lee Song Hee-il’s (이송희일) short film Going South (남쪽으로 간다) is a somewhat culturally sensitive affair on an oft-known, yet seldom discussed topic. Forming part of the director’s 2012 trilogy alongside White Night (백야) and Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기)Going South also depicts the evolving relationship between two men over the course of several hours, in this instance as they travel through the countryside towards an army barracks. The returning soldier, Gi-tae (Kim Jae-heung (김재흥), is distraught as his lover Jun-yeong (Jeon Sin-hwan (전신환) has ended their relationship following the completion of his mandatory military service. The narrative explores their differing ideology regarding homosexuality within the trauma of separation, emphasizing key socio-cultural issues throughout. Yet the film also struggles with the debate and the increasingly tense relationship, sparingly introducing information about the couple resulting in a somewhat bland, yet very attractive film.

The most striking feature of Going South is undoubtedly the colour palette as director Leesong employs highly effective use of the natural green tones of the countryside. The director’s artistic sensibilities are acutely on display throughout as he captures the vibrant greens of the forests that serve as a backdrop for the protagonists, providing a palpable energy as Gi-tae and Jun-yeong fight and curse at each other during their break-up. Within this realm Gi-tae’s military uniform seamlessly merges with the surrounding environment while Jun-yeong’s city fashion is completely at odds, and director Leesong does well in employing costume to highlight the stark differences between the two protagonists. The contrast with the brown hues that enter the film are also profound, adding potent symbolism for the various stages of their rapidly deteriorating relationship.

Soldier Gi-tae's uniform blends with the green landscapes

Soldier Gi-tae’s uniform blends with the green landscapes

Central to the narrative is the issue of homosexuality within the military, which is wonderfully articulated through Gi-tae and Jun-yeong. For Gi-tae, being gay is part of his identity; for Jun-yeong, it is a phase that men go through during military service. As the two clash over their different ideological perspectives, letters that were exchanged between them when they served together are edited within the film, harking back to their history and the sweet exchanges that took place. Such title screens are quite distracting however, and serve to pull the audience out of the film due to their unnatural insertion. Despite this, Going South quickly becomes an examination of contemporary Korean masculinity, and the role of the military in defining sexuality.

Yet attractive visuals and central theme aside, Going South is a somewhat flat queer film. Much of the running time is preoccupied with driving through the countryside, with more information required to make the protagonists and their ‘journey’ more compelling. The narrative does pick up in the later stages to end on a high note, yet the actors aren’t really stretched into creating the required impetus for these scenes to truly generate the utmost poignancy.

As the relationship deteriorates, symbolic brown tones enter the frame

As the relationship deteriorates, symbolic brown tones enter the frame

Verdict:

Going South is a vibrant, attractive queer film examining homosexuality within the Korean military, and deserves praise merely for broaching the subject. Director Leesong Hee-il employs the colours of the countryside effectively, however the film is a rather flat offering due to the sparse information and lack of powerful performances. Yet Going South offers an interesting perspective in role of the military in defining contemporary Korean masculinity, and as such provides a fresh approach in the exploration of gay relationships.

★★★☆☆

Reviews
Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기)

Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기) – ★★★★☆

Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기)

Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기)

Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기) is a wonderfully moving and understated short film, and certainly the best of director Lee Song Hee-il’s (이송희일) 2012 trilogy comprised of White Night (백야) and Going South (남쪽으로 간다). In each segment of the trilogy the theme of two men spending a prolonged period of time together in a day is explored, with Suddenly, Last Summer exploring this dynamic between thirty-something high school teacher Kyeong-hoon (경훈, Kim Yeong-jae (김영재) and student Sang-woo (상우, Han Joo-wan (한주완). Typically films that delve into such age and society-related relationships attempt to portray a morality tale of some sort, yet director Leesong eschews melodramatic cliches in order to convey a psychologically complex connection between the protagonists, emerging as a mature and thought-provoking examination on the subject.

Key to the potency of Suddenly, Last Summer is the manner in which director Leesong presents information about the relationship between Kyeong-hoon and Sang-woo, and how such revelations develop their connection. Initially Sang-woo, an attractive young gay student, appears to be infatuated with the teacher, stalking him and making unfair demands. Yet as they engage in various conversations throughout the day, moments from the past are subtly referenced adding layers upon layers of complexity to their relationship, discussing and debating prior actions that may or may not have contained deeper meanings and the inferences generated from them. Director Leesong refuses to either condone or condemn the protagonists, instead opting to examine their internal struggles between desires as gay men and societal responsibilities.

The psychological complexities of he relationship are subtly explored

The psychological complexities of the relationship are subtly explored

Director Leesong’s films always display a keen artistic sensibility, and with Suddenly, Last Summer this most notably appears through the repetition of water imagery. In taking a river cruise in the popular Yeouido area, Kyeong-hoon and Sang-woo open themselves to the tranquil beauty of the water, ebbing and flowing against a romantic-charged soundtrack. The blue tones of the Han River also work well in conjunction with the protagonists’ shirts. The pure white that envelops Sang-woo conveys his purity and innocence, his single-minded approach to life, yet Kyeong-hoon’s blue shirt connotes an older, more mature persona. The actors wonderfully articulate such sensibilities through their performances, with Kim Yeong-jae providing a highly effective and restrained performance as the morally-conflicted teacher, palpably displaying his discontent facially. Meanwhile Han Joo-wan connotes his youthful frustrations well, flitting between moments of maturity and adolescence in expressing his desires.

Despite their differing styles, both men clearly harbour a similar emotional discord which unites them, even though society states it is inappropriate. Their confusion is wonderfully articulated through the labyrinthine landscape of the apartment buildings, with the many twists and turns articulating their own psychological dilemmas. It is this moral and psychological complexity that makes Suddenly, Last Summer such a compelling film, and a welcome entry into Korean queer cinema.

Water imagery and colour play important roles in decoding the relationship

Water imagery and colour play important roles in decoding the relationship

Verdict:

Suddenly, Last Summer is a subtle and moving exploration of the relationship between a high school teacher and student. Director Leesong Hee-il delicately inserts information throughout that continually evolves the connection between them, challenging preconceptions while never adopting a moral position, and as such is the best film in the director’s 2012 trilogy.

★★★★☆

Reviews
Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기)

Q&A with Director Leesong Hee-il (이송희일) – Part 2

Director Leesong Hee-il (이송희일)

Director Leesong Hee-il (이송희일)

To celebrate renowned queer director Lee Song Hee-il’s (이송희일) 2012 film trilogy, Indieplus cinema in Gangnam held a special screening and Q&A event on the 12th of March. In February, feature length film White Night (백야) was screened – the Q&A of which you can read here – while the March event featured a double-bill of short films Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기) and Going South (남쪽으로 간다). All three films are connected thematically as each story depicts two gay characters and the events that transpire between them during the course of several hours.

Suddenly, Last Summer is concerned with a relationship between a thirty-something teacher and a high school student. The film is an intelligent and subtle exploration of psychology and morality, as both protagonist have desires yet are constrained by societal position. The performances are wonderfully restrained and poetic, making the film arguably the best of the trilogy.

Going South, meanwhile, explores homosexuality within the military. The short film employs nature and vibrant colours in conveying conflict between the two central characters, one who wishes to continue their relationship and the other who views homosexuality as merely a phase of military service.

Both short films have been well received – and notably invited to the 2013 BFI London Gay and Lesbian Film Festival – and following the screenings director Leesong fielded questions from the audience, kindly translated by independent producer Hwang Hye-rim (황혜림).

Going South (남쪽으로 간다)

Going South (남쪽으로 간다)

Question: Thank you, I really enjoyed both of the films. They are really touching and moving. With Going South, your sense of colour was really strong – the greens and the browns especially. Can you tell us what feelings you were trying to evoke? Why did you choose those two colours in particular?

Director Leesong: When I was thinking of these three films, colour was one of the things that I was really interested in. So I put a lot of focus on that and I tried to make certain differences between the three films in terms of colour. For example, White Night happens at night so I already had limitations, so I tried to put focus on the colour of the protagonists clothes in that film. And I used a 5D Mark II camera to try and make the lighting match and give focus. I tried to give the film a certain kind of colour and tone. And for Suddenly, Last Summer, water is one of the main images so I tried to show the clothes of the main protagonists like the teacher’s shirt or the white shirt of the school uniform which shows more clearly the differences between them. For Going South, the green colour is the most important colour in the film so I tried to find a location where I can show real green images like a lotus field and forest. I visited several forests to find the perfect green [for the film]. There wasn’t exactly a specific reason I chose green, but what I wanted was to go out of Seoul, out of the city and have distance from the city, to show the least [characteristics] of the city such as buildings. Therefore green became important. I shot this film in Yangsuri which is near Seoul, and is well-known by Seoulites, but I tried to shoot it as if it wasn’t Yangsuri, as if it was some other place. So I went deeper into Yangsuri, and tried to find different spots in the area so that it can look different from what people know. I tried quite hard to find these kind of locations and I really wanted to follow the psychological mindscape of the two protagonists, so that’s why I tried to focus more on their journey and their psychology, and to avoid a cityscape. I needed more [natural] landscape. Even the road when one protagonist kidnaps the other, that road is about 300 meters long and other than that it is surrounded by buildings. That specific spot was something I’ve had in my mind for 5 or 6 years and I was always going to use it in a movie one day, and I finally used it. I tried to remove other kinds of colour as I didn’t want to give you too many colourful images but to just focus on the two people, just the colour green and their emotional journey. If you can remember the character of Jun-young from the film, the man from the city who was discharged from military service, he’s wearing a white shirt so I didn’t want to mix too many more different colours. In the end, I only wanted their emotional development to be shown more than other features.

Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기)

Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기)

(The following question is quite offensive to the gay community, and is purely the opinion of the audience member. It in no way reflects the liberal attitude within Hanguk Yeonghwa).

Question: I think I can understand more about gay people through these films. I think gay issues are well received in American societies, for example, and economically and politically, and in the film market. But in Korean society, I think there is still, not taboo exactly, but more negative responses to gay issues than other societies. So I’d like to know what you are trying to say through your film to [Korean] society where more negative opinions exist. My second question is I’d say that it’s a personal choice, or sexual preference, if you are gay or not. But also there are worries that after two generations that if more and more people choose to be gay, although it’s personal preferences and choices, it’s probably possible that no-one would exist anymore. So some people consider being gay as a bad influence sometimes, so I’d like to know the director’s opinion on that.

Director Leesong: To answer your first question, there wasn’t a big or high intention. It’s just like if you are asking any non-gay filmmakers, or films with non-gay themes, you never ask them what their intentions were, what did they want to say to non-gay society. You don’t ask that, right? So I say, let’s be fair. But when you are facing a filmmaker who is making a film about sexual minorities then you always ask this kind of question, like what was your message to society. There wasn’t a big intention, just to make a film about love, where the main protagonists are sexual minorities. Let’s be fair, you wouldn’t ask that question to heterosexual filmmakers, so you shouldn’t ask me either. As for the second question, I don’t think it just applies to Korean society, it applies to most societies. Most gay people are raised by non-gay parents but they grew up as a gay person. Even if the parents are a gay couple, and they say to their children, “You should be gay”, they wouldn’t all be gay. If they want to love the other sex, then they will. I don’t think it’s a bad influence. As many of you know, the Mayor of Berlin is gay, and at the city hall there are rainbow flags but that doesn’t mean that Berlin is necessarily the only gay-friendly city. It’s embracing gay culture more, but that doesn’t mean everyone in Berlin is gay. I think that by having more sexual minorities speak out helps to develop a more democratic society, so therefore we need to hear more voices, minority groups should have more voices to make a real democracy possible, and make people embrace other people’s differences and opinions. In those terms I think that Korean society still has that kind of tedious democracy, we are still getting there, to have a more developed democracy.

Suddenly, Last Summer explores the relationship between a teacher and student

Suddenly, Last Summer explores the relationship between a teacher and student

Can we lighten up the atmosphere a little bit? Do you have any lighter questions? I think I will sink into a grave, the atmosphere feels like that.

Question: I’m really curious whether the actors in your films are really gay or not.

Director Leesong: What answer would you like?

Question: Just say it [the truth]!

Director Leesong: They are all not gay in real life. But I have to say I can’t really be happy to answer like that. It’s really hard to find anyone, actor or actress, who has freely come out of the closet and said that they are gay or lesbian. There are almost none who have been open about their sexual identities. So it’s not that I searched hard for non-gay actors, it’s the other way. It’s hard to think of anyone who is as beautiful as the actors who are in the films who are gay, that’s why we were laughing. But I should add that there are differences compared to ten years ago, there are younger generations who have more courage to come for an audition for my films, so that’s a big change.

Question: In Going South it was separated into ‘acts’ with the letters. I was wondering if that is more a stylistic or tonal choice, or did you choose that style for a structural choice in telling the story? Or to separate the different moods of each act?

Going South explores homosexual issues within the military

Going South explores homosexual issues within the military

Director Leesong: Well for Going South we shot for six days, so the whole production was like a short film. It was really difficult to show their past with images, it would have taken me a lot of time to show what they have been through together. So I wanted to show their past history together, not through images, but through their letters. I wanted to reveal their past history as the movie moved on and on, but I didn’t want them to talk about it, so the letters revealed their relationship. I don’t think it was necessarily to make an ‘act’. In Korea, serving in the army is compulsory, it’s an obligation. So if you are old enough, an a man, you must go to the army and serve for two years. It’s been like that for a long time. The things that were depicted in the film are happening quite often in the army, and that’s the basic idea. Nowadays I heard that they are doing several kinds of things such as planning sections differently to ‘prevent’ certain kinds of things – the exact expression is ‘anti-gay’ kinds of things. For example, before all the men used to sleep in one big room, but now they have sections so they are separated from each other. Because before they were all sleeping in the same section, and, well, a lot of things happened there. In those terms, this film Going South is quite a cliche. Whether they are gay or not, the army is a huge group of same sex people, and things happen. I just wanted to show the cliche that people know about, and make a story about it. I should tell a funny story because the atmosphere is so serious. I’m actually quite a funny guy! Having this kind of situation in Korea, and having gay men going to the army, creates two different responses. One is like a man sent to a place full of women, so a lot of gay men have a hard time because of the showers and life is difficult for them. But on the other hand there are gay men who are very happy to go to the army, they use the expression, “I’ll be among the flowers,” “I’m in a flower field.” After their army service they brag about things from the army like sex and lovers, stories they tell to their friends.

(Director Leesong then began to discuss about his next project).

Director Leesong: Night Flight‘ is inspired by a real story that happened about two years ago in a high school. There was a student who confessed his sexual identity to his teacher, which should be discrete. It was during a session with the teacher, and he was having a hard time telling him about what was going on in his mind. But the very next day the teacher broadcasted [the student’s sexuality] throughout the school during a broadcasting program. He just said the boy in class ‘B’, for example, is gay and you shouldn’t choose to be gay. It was a really violent response by a teacher, it shows the reality in Korean education, I think. I was thinking whether I should make a film about it or not, and then we had a person who was the education director for Seoul. Before his election we had an act about student rights which prohibited discrimination against students because of their sexuality and gender. But as soon as this new person got elected as the director of education, he said he was going to exclude and eliminate the article about prohibiting discrimination against gay people. That really pissed me off. It really shows the violent reality in Korean schools these days, Korean schools are showing the violence within Korean society. So I decided to make a film about it, dealing with school violence and also living as a gay [student].

Sincere thanks to director Leesong Hee-il for taking the time to answer the questions, to Producer Hwang for translating and to Manger Kwon Mi-hui and Indieplus Cinema for hosting the event.

Directors Interviews/Q&As
Tae-hee dreams of exploring the world beyond the trappings of her existence

Take Care of My Cat (고양이를 부탁해) – ★★★★☆

Take Care of My Cat (고양이를 부탁해)

Take Care of My Cat (고양이를 부탁해)

The voices of young women are often ignored in mainstream cinema. Those that do appear tend to focus on frivolity, particularly consumerism where the characters purchase the latest fashions often in the attempt to catch the attention of a love interest. Such latent sexism is wonderfully rejected in director Jeong Jae-eun’s (정재은) indie drama Take Care of My Cat (고양이를 부탁해), a refreshing drama about five friends who increasingly grow apart after high school. The film had a very successful festival run following its debut at the 2001 Busan International Film Festival, appearing at Berlin and Rotterdam amongst others, and launched the careers of the principal cast, notably Bae Doo-na who went on to star in several high profile productions such as Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and Hollywood movie Cloud Atlas.

Following graduation from high school, five friends from the port city of Incheon who were previously extremely close begin to drift apart. Shin Hae-joo (Lee Yo-won (이요원) lives in Seoul working hard to achieve a career, becoming driven by appearance and success. Yoo Tae-hee (Bae Doo-na (배두나) works for her father’s business for free, struggling to find her own identity and ambitions. Seo Ji-young (Ok Ji-yeong (옥지영) is an aspiring textile artist, yet her poverty-stricken lifestyle has left her with little prospects. Finally, twins On-jo (Lee Eun-Ju (이은주) and Bi-ryu (Lee Eun-Sil (이은실) simply attempt to get by, making cheap jewelry to be sold at market. As Tae-hee works hard to keep the bonds of friendship strong, events occur that profoundly change the young women and take them all in different directions resulting in the passing of a pet cat between them.

The friends reunite for Hae-joo's 20th birthday

The friends reunite for Hae-joo’s 20th birthday

Take Care of My Cat is an intelligent character-driven film, one that eschews the trappings of melodramatic story-lines so often ascribed to women’s roles in cinema. Director Jeong, who also takes writing duties, instead opts for more realism, conveying the struggles of young women fresh from high school, struggling to succeed in the highly competitive society. With each protagonist director Jeong highlights and interrogates particular features of Korean culture, balancing the social critique between them while simultaneously conveying how such forces shape them into different women. Hae-joo – wonderfully brought to life by actress Lee Yo-won – must contend with the extreme diligence of the employment sector in Seoul, constantly striving to be ‘better’ and prompting an arrogance and selfishness her friends are unaccustomed to. Meanwhile Tae-hee is forced to endure the misogyny within Korean culture as exemplified by her father who passes tips on how to be a ‘real man’ to his son. With Ji-young, her poverty forces limitations on her creativity and forces her outside the margins of society. In each case, director Jeong explores the notions of female identity and its construction with skill and insight, organically debating them within the narrative as the quintet of friends observe the change the personalities and the distance generated amongst them.

In this regard it is Tae-hee who, as the central figure who arranges meetings, becomes the heart of the film and the window through whom the audience identifies most. As Tae-hee attempts to bring the group closer it becomes clear she’s fighting an uphill battle, and her observances reflect the audience’s own. Bae Doona brings a wonderful and nature grace to the role, both endearing and sincere, conveying a young woman yearning for identity and ambition that always seem just out of reach. She is the person with whom young people can relate the most, someone who wants independence and individuality yet is trapped by the culture that surrounds her.

Tae-hee dreams of exploring the world beyond the trappings of her existence

Tae-hee dreams of exploring the world beyond the trappings of her existence

The titular cat also functions as pertinent and insightful metaphor for female identity. As director Jeong has often stated in interviews, cats are fussy and independent, don’t listen, and leave home whenever they wish. As the cat is passed between the friends it becomes symbolic in inspiring the owner to yearn for more, to become increasingly frustrated with her existence as it stands. As Koreans are traditionally uneasy with cats, the director seems to be suggesting that Korean culture struggles with the notion of female identity and independence. Director Jeong emphasises such traits through each of the protagonists, especially Tae-hee and Ji-young by exploring their unhappiness and desire for change. The narrative is quite unbalanced in regards to twins On-jo and Bi-ryu however, and their inclusion is underdeveloped and arguably unnecessary. They serve little function throughout, except to sell cheap home-made accessories to other women, again tying into the debate of physical attractiveness women are expected to partake in.

Yet Take Care of My Cat is not all deep metaphor and social debate, as the film makes effective use of lighting techniques, an otherworldly electronic soundtrack, and text messaging/typing graphics to give the film a distinctly ‘cool’ edge. These features combine incredibly well and lend the film something of a ‘cult’ vibe, and has clearly served as an inspiration to later films who have employed such techniques.

Ji-young's poverty-stricken life is difficult to endure

Ji-young’s poverty-stricken life is difficult to endure

Verdict:

Take Care of My Cat is a wonderfully charismatic film that provides young women with a voice that’s sorely lacking in contemporary cinema. By eschewing notions of consumerism and melodrama, writer/director Jeong Jae-eun instead focuses on female identity and its construction with skill and insight. Furthermore the electronic soundtrack, amongst other techniques, make it something of a cult film, as well as an intelligent, profound offering in the debate of womanhood in modern Korean society.

★★★★☆

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Courier Tae-jun sports an iconic orange jacket, revealing much about his character

White Night (백야) – ★★★★☆

White Night (백야)

White Night (백야)

Originally intended as part of a short film trilogy, Korea’s first openly gay director Lee Song Hee-il’s (이송희일) White Night (백야) evolved during the course of filming to become a short feature. Since its debut at the 2012 Jeonju International Film Festival, White Night has enjoyed a successful festival run resulting in a European premiere at the 2013 Berlin International Film Festival and featuring at the 2013 BFI London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival, respectively.

The film examines the single night in return of air steward Won-gyu, two years after a self-imposed exile following a homophobic assault. The altercation is based on a true event which occurred in Jongno, Seoul in 2011, and director Leesong explores the deep-rooted psychological trauma that continues to resonate long after the attack. Employing European aesthetics to do so, the director has crafted an attractive and interesting exploration, but one that ultimately fails to shake off its short story origins into something more.

(For the Q&A with director Leesong Hee-il regarding White Night, please follow this link.)

Returning to Seoul after an absence of two years, gay air steward Won-gyu (원규, Won Tae-hee (원태희) is distant and aloof. Rather than contact family, Won-gyu arranges to meet another man via the internet for a sexual encounter. Yet when courier Tae-jun (태준, Lee E-gyeong (이이경) arrives, Won-gyu’s barriers and distance prove too much to bear. For some inexplicable reason however Tae-jun can’t leave Won-gyu alone. As the night wears on, Won-gyu’s history as a victim of violence becomes clear and the twosome resolve to stay together until Won-gyu leaves the following morning.

Won-gyu is aloof and distant, expressing himself through subtle mannerisms

Won-gyu is aloof and distant, expressing himself through subtle mannerisms

Director Leesong Hee-il is clearly influenced by European cinema, with such aesthetic sensibilities shining through in each frame. While the film compromises of mostly street scenes, White Night is very attractive throughout and features some lovely cinematography that gives each area different characteristics. Such artistry is also present within the protagonists themselves. Won-gyu, for instance, doesn’t give away any information about himself directly, yet through his mannerisms it is clear he contains hidden depths. As the character continually plays with items in his hands, chews gum, and stares longing when smoking, it is left to the audience to wonder about the internal conflict that drives him and the reason for his stoicism. These clues are intelligently and subtly referenced throughout the film, and it is acutely refreshing to witness psychological trauma presented in such a manner without characters screaming about their strife. While intriguing at first, the lack of information does however become frustrating as Won-gyu refuses to provide any, often only smoking and staring into the distance. As such director Leesong flirts dangerously close with the pretentiousness so often associated with European art-house fare, yet thankfully the inclusion of Tae-jun propels the narrative forward so that such instances don’t linger for too long.

Tae-jun is an extremely compelling and likable young gay man, one who evokes the iconic spirit of James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause with his orange jacket and motorcycle. He is the antithesis of Won-gyu, someone who is open and articulate and as such quickly becomes the heart of White Night. His desires for freedom and to be noticed are conveyed well through his apparel, and he additionally provides the more comedic moments in the brief and fleeting relationship with Won-gyu. Tae-jun is also unfailingly kind. Yet his kindness highlights one of the more odd features of the narrative, as despite the rather abusive treatment he suffers due to Won-gyu for some reason Tae-jun refuses to leave. The motivations for such behaviour are curiously absent, stretching believability as to why a character with Tae-jun’s integrity would endure such annoyances.

Courier Tae-jun sports an iconic orange jacket, revealing much about his character

Courier Tae-jun sports an iconic orange jacket, revealing much about his character

White Night really comes into its own when referencing the homophobic assault that transpired in 2011. The revelation of Won-gyu’s involvement is understated and sincere, as the impetus underpinning the character’s frosty demeanor are revealed. The discussions involving the ramifications of the event and the subsequent media coverage are poignant, exploring not only homophobia within society and the homestead but also the psychological anguish that such violence creates. Tying the narrative into a true-life situation is a masterstroke in emphasizing the difficulties of being a gay man in contemporary Korea, and director Leesong does well in presenting such a timely issue.

However following such an integral and compelling plot point, the film struggles to find direction and to move beyond its short film sensibilities. Won-gyu’s psychology is not delved into further aside from a rather brief encounter with the theme of revenge, and the protagonist continues to display a coldness that halts the development of the relationship between him and Tae-jun. Additionally the film feels rather padded out with more unnecessary street scenes – possibly in order to make it a feature length presentation – which quickly become rather dull. Furthermore the love sequence between the couple seems somewhat forced, while the framing and character actions are far from romantic. White Night is therefore quite a mixed offering from director Leesong, one that perhaps would have worked better in its original short form rather than the elongated, and rather underdeveloped, feature length version that exists.

The cinematography of the street scenes are attractive and symbolic

The cinematography of the street scenes are attractive and symbolic

Verdict:

White Night is an interesting and attractive queer film from prominent gay director Leesong Hee-il. The European aesthetics are combined well with the psychological trauma exhibited by the main character, itself derived from a real homophobic assault in 2011. Yet the film never fully goes beyond its short story origins, featuring repetitive scenes in conjunction with some underdeveloped narrative moments. Despite this White Night is a thought-provoking film about anguish, and one of the better queer features in recent memory.

★★★★☆

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The relationship that develops between Jong-du and Gong-ju is beautifully poignant

Oasis (오아시스) – ★★★★★

Oasis (오아시스)

Oasis (오아시스)

Oasis (오아시스), the third film by auteur Lee Chang-dong (이창동), is an absolute masterpiece. Director Lee has built his career on exploring and critiquing Korean culture through artistic frameworks, and with Oasis he deftly examines the challenging subject matter of the plights endured by the mentally ill and disabled. In depicting the burgeoning romance between mildly mentally ill Hong Jong-du and cerebral palsy sufferer Han Gong-ju, director Lee also highlights the intolerance and hypocrisy of society and the resulting impact on their lives. The power of the film is such that it won several notable awards upon release – particularly at the Venice Film Festival – for the novelist-turned-director, as well as for the exceptional performances by lead actors Moon So-ri (문소리) and Seol Kyeong-gu (설경구).

During the middle of winter, mentally ill Hong Jong-du (Seol Kyeong-gu (설경구) is released from serving a two and half year prison sentence for a hit-and-run that resulted in a man’s death. Returning to society in his summer clothes, Jong-du discovers that his family has moved without letting him know though rejoins them again through another brush with the law. Attempting to fit in with society once more, Jong-du feels compelled to visit the family of the man who was killed and discovers his daughter, Han Gong-ju (Moon So-ri (문소리), who suffers with cerebral palsy. Immediately fascinated by her, Jong-du visits Gong-ju when she is alone and frightens her, yet as time passes the two form an incredible bond despite the pressure from family and society.

Jong-du is released from prison to find his family have moved without notifying him

Jong-du is released from prison to find his family have moved without notifying him

Oasis is an exceptionally poignant film. Director Lee employs a social-realist aesthetic in exploring the difficulties of the disabled, adding compelling realism to the trials they are forced to endure. The notion of family is notable in this regard and the film pulls no punches in articulating the selfish ambitions, hypocrisy and ignorance exhibited by the relatives. Such discourses begin immediately as Jong-du, who has the mental ability of a child, cannot find his family once released from prison and only reunites with them when he once again gets in trouble. The intolerance displayed by the family is indeed shocking throughout as they attempt to force Jong-du to become part of society despite his obvious limitations, reprimanding him with astonishing lack of compassion when he inevitably fails. Gong-ju is abused in a similar fashion as she is routinely exploited by her family when required but discarded almost immediately after. Director Lee portrays the suffering of the lead protagonists with incredible potency, never judging any of the characters or events with cinematic techniques but simply allowing the actors to convey the respective personalities, to which audiences can ascribe their own opinions. This lack of manipulation is executed superbly and deftly sidesteps the all-too-easy pitfalls of melodramatic conventions, and as such the palpable emotional weight within Oasis is the result of some of the finest acting in contemporary cinema.

It is impossible to discuss Oasis without referring to the simply exquisite performances conducted by Moon So-ri and Seol Kyeong-gu. Moon So-ri in particular is exceptional as cerebral palsy suffering Gong-ju, contorting her body and facial features with astounding skill to convey the protagonist with absolute sincerity. Gong-ju’s frustrations at her inability to move and speak freely are genuinely moving, yet it is her development from lonely wallflower to confident young woman that is a joy to behold. The love and companionship nurtured between her and Jong-du grows subtly and naturally, with the evolving happiness and dignity on display a constant source of compulsion. Within this development Seol Kyeong-gu is momentous as Jong-du, conveying the character’s mannerisms – including a constant cold – and infectious child-like behaviour with real skill. Director Lee continues his deconstruction of Korean masculinity through Jong-du, who initially loses control of his faculties and attempts – and fails – to rape Gong-ju, yet learns that compassion is more important than such base desires. It is a notion lost on the other male antagonists, who continue to view women as little more than commodities.

The relationship that develops between Jong-du and Gong-ju is beautifully poignant

The relationship that develops between Jong-du and Gong-ju is beautifully poignant

In addition to family, Oasis examines the society inhabited by Jong-du and Gong-ju, highlighting the terms of difference and exclusion in which it operates. Wherever the couple visit, and whatever events they attempt to partake in, they are shunned, rejected, and forced to the margins. Yet rather than focus on the negativity such incidents incur director Lee instead portrays how such marginalization brings the couple closer together as kindred spirits, reinforcing their spiritual connection through their mutual suffering.

Given the social-realist aesthetic it is surprising that the director occasionally injects fantasy sequences within the narrative, but far from detracting from the development they serve to enrich it. The moments in which Gong-ju’s deepest desires achieve fruition are tender and sweet, allowing her to express freely what her taut frame otherwise doesn’t allow. Within this realm lies the true potency of the film’s title, at once expressing Gong-ju’s fear of the darkness encroaching on her life but simultaneously providing a secret space for her and Jong-du to truly express their devotion without judgement. Such scenes are moving, artistic, and beautiful in their construction, capturing the depth of their understated love in the most compelling and sincere fashion.

The 'oasis', the dream in which they can live a life free from the ignorance of others

The ‘oasis’, the dream in which they can live a life free from the ignorance of others

Verdict:

Oasis is an exceptional masterpiece. The social-realist aesthetic applied in depicting the burgeoning relationship between the lead couple is executed magnificently by auteur Lee Chang-dong, who deftly sidesteps melodrama in conveying the development of love between mentally ill and cerebral palsy individuals. Moon So-ri and Seol Kyeong-gu are simply exquisite in the lead roles and are utterly captivating throughout, articulating acute sincerity ad poignancy within their respective performances. Oasis is an absolute must-see film.

★★★★★

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Courier Tae-jun sports an iconic orange jacket, revealing much about his character

White Night (백야) screening and Q&A with director Leesong Hee-il (이송희일)

Director Leesong Hee-il (이송희일)

Director Leesong Hee-il (이송희일)

At the Indieplus Q&A special event on February 19th, director Lee Song Hee-il’s (이송희일) latest film White Night (백야) was screened followed by the director graciously fielding questions posed by the audience. White Night has been a mainstay on the festival circuit since its premiere at the 2012 Jeonju International Film Festival, appearing in Vancouver and more recently featuring as part of the ‘Panorama’ programme at the prestigious 2013 Berlinale Film Festival.

The film, which was originally intended to be screened as part of a trilogy of short films, is based on the real-life event of a homophobic assault in Jongno, Seoul. White Night follows the victim of the attack, air steward Won-gyu who is visiting Korea for the first time in two years since the terrible ordeal. As he spends the night retracing the steps of the assault, he is joined by handsome courier Tae-jun who, for a reason he can’t explain, is reluctant to leave Won-gyu’s side. As the two men accompany each other throughout the night, they discover alternate experiences of being a gay man in contemporary Seoul.

Following the screening, film producer Hwang Hye-rim (황혜림) translated the queries posed by the audience. Before beginning, producer Hwang gave an insight into director Leesong’s history as a film maker.

Producer Hwang: Since his (director Leesong’s) first short film, which was made in 1998, up to his third feature White Night, his main concern was social prejudice in society. It’s a special opportunity to chat with him, as we (Korea) don’t really have a gay cinema, or films about sexual minorities or these kinds of issues. It’s not just about their struggles, but also about the melodramatic setting and that’s one  of the interesting things about his films too. How did the project start?

White Night (백야)

White Night (백야)

Director Leesong: As I said about 50 times in Q&A sessions, but just to give you a brief idea about the film, this film started as a shorter film. Actually there were 3 films released last year in 2012 in November, which were White Night, Suddenly, Last Summer (지난여름, 갑자기), and Going South (남쪽으로 간다). Before that I made No Regret (후회하지 않아) which was shown in Berlin which was also a queer movie, and Breakaway (탈주). I was preparing a feature film but while waiting to make that, because that film wasn’t in winter season, I had some time and some funding form a cultural organization to make a short film, which became Suddenly, Last Summer. It was like a part-time job for me in the beginning, it was short-term work. So I finished it in one month. And I decided to make another 2 films which became White Night and Going South. The original plan was to release the 3 films together as 1 feature, but they all became longer than I had expected so altogether it’s around 2 hours and 40 minutes which was almost not acceptable in cinemas. So it was changed into 2 films. Because I started with Suddenly, Last Summer which is about 2 men who take a walk through different kinds of ‘space’ during 6 hours. That was the basic concept that runs through all the films. So they are about the relationship between 2 men during a 6 hour period. [The film is based on a homophobic assault in Jongno, Seoul]. The incident took place in 2011 and the film was released in 2012, so it was a recent incident. I was preparing a scenario when it happened and the basic idea was based on a short story of Dostoevsky the Russian writer which is also in the title White Night. But while I was trying to write the script I didn’t really like the draft I had at the time. Then I hear the news of the assault and it was really surprising even to me. I’ve been a activist for gay rights, and I thought I’d seen everything, but even for me it was very shocking that it happened in 2011, when I thought that Korean society had become much better. It wasn’t what I expected. These kinds of incidents are like what happened in the late ’60s and ’70s in western and European society, but it happened here, now, and it was really alarming. Recently I had been focusing more on my film work, but the event changed that. I wanted to give the main character Won-gyu a feeling of a refugee, or of being in exile, so I took the incident as part of the inspiration for the film.

Question: Who is watching this film? By that I mean is it Korean women, men, foreigners, who is his audience? And how are Korean people reacting to this film and what kind of feedback is he getting? When he’s making these movies, what kind of audience does he usually get? Who is responding, and how is he expecting people to respond? Is tonight’s audience representative of people who generally watching his movies?

No Regret (후회하지 않아)

No Regret (후회하지 않아)

Producer Hwang: Maybe I should mention that his previous film which was made in 2006 called No Regret was the biggest hit of the independent film scene at the time, with an audience of 60,000 people. But he has been making films for over a decade, so let’s ask him.

Director Leesong: I’m not that old, it’s not that long! I think it’s quite a complicated, but very important question. I think there has been a remarkable change since I made my previous queer film No Regret. At the time it was a huge issue because it was the first feature film made by a gay director who had come out of the closet, and that in itself was quite an issue at the time. The film was quite popular and drew a lot of 20-something female audiences, they were like 90% of the audience, and they formed the fandom of this film. But it’s been 6 years since No Regret and remarkable changes have been seen in queer cinema and the market for queer cinema. Before it was mostly 20-something female audiences who were interested, and I think it’s an Asian phenomenon so it was quite popular among young women in Japan, Taiwan and Korea. In Europe and America there is a big gay audience, but in Asia 90% of the audience, at least in the case of No Regret, were young females. Also some women in their 30s, and mothers in the 40s and 50s who came with their daughters were there, but it was mostly women in their 20s rather than men. But when I released this film, I realized the audiences numbers were more reduced than before. I think the reason is that these kinds of issues are not rare anymore, you can see much more of them in TV dramas and other kinds of media which deal with gay issues, or using them as a subject. So queer film is not a rare item anymore. The second reason is that 6 years ago, not many gay people would come to the cinema because they were afraid that by watching the film, they may reveal their sexual identity. So many gay people were afraid of that. But I think probably from last year, because there were many gay films like Miracle on Jongno Street (종로의 기적) and Two Weddings and a Funeral (두 번의 결혼식과 한 번의 장례식). You could see more gay audiences coming to the cinema, which indicates there has been changes in the Korean cinema and queer market. Personally I don’t want to focus on films for gay audiences only, like camp films in America. I don’t want to focus on films that are only consumed by gay audiences, or be confined to that specific area or issue. I want to focus more on universal stories and feelings that appeal to other audiences as well. That’s why I tried to make a story like White Night, that focuses more on their emotional sides that can appeal to a broader audience. I think I’d like to continue like that. I’m thankful if gay audiences like my films, but I’d also like to have a non-gay audience as well.

Courier Tae-jun wears an iconic orange jacket

Courier Tae-jun wears an iconic orange jacket

Question: Can you tell us about the character of Tae-jun? With his orange jacket he’s similar to James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause, so I just wondered if that was what you were going for, like a rebellious gay character who is out and proud?

Director Leesong: That’s a question I’ve never had during my Q&A sessions with the audience, and it’s a very accurate question. Personally I really like Nicholas Ray’s films. I saw Rebel Without A Cause a lot too, and I think it’s not just me but it’s also noted that certain bi-sexual elements are shown in Nicholas Ray’s films. I really like the colour and the tone of the movie. I saw this film shortly before I made White Night, and because the film is quite a low budget film we had to shot almost all of the film at night and we couldn’t spend much on lighting. So I had to figure out how I should show the difference between these two characters, light and darkness. Not just for the atmosphere and environment, but in their personalities. That’s why I thought that I should use the orange jacket, to show his character a little bit. My team tried hard to find an orange jacket that I would like, for almost a month, but the jacket you can see in the film is not the one that I like 100% but I had to compromise, it’s the restrictive environment of film making. The jacket was sold in an auction. It was really refreshing question, thank you.

Question: I saw the character of Won-gyu is chewing gum all the time. I was wondering if there was any specific meaning to that action?

Director Leesong: This is a popular question during the past 50 Q&A sessions. I really liked Bernardo Bertolucci’s Last Tango In Paris and I wanted to shoot the scene where the character takes the gum out of his mouth and puts it on the wall of the toilet. When I saw that film a long time ago, I decided I wanted to have that in my film as well, and I finally did it. And then I thought, why the gum? Basically the character of Won-gyu came back to Korea and is recalling his memories of the incident, and is going back to the past, and as I have shown through other techniques such as when the character gets the zippo lighter, and when he smokes twice, it indicates that Won-gyu might have been a heavy smoker when he was younger. And he might feel the urge to smoke when he comes back to Korea, so he chews gum to stop himself smoking. Also in my other film Going South one of the main characters eats medicine for headaches habitually, which indicates that he is depressed.

Won-gyu expresses himself through gestures and mannerisms, rather than dialogue

Won-gyu expresses himself through gestures and mannerisms, rather than dialogue

Question: You were talking about your films, and I was curious to known if the queer scene in Korea and Asia was primarily based in gay cinema, or if there was any lesbian cinema?

Director Leesong: It’s kind of a complicated question to answer, but I have to say that in Korea not many lesbian films are made – or almost no films made, up to now. Because there are no lesbian directors who have come out. I know there are many lesbian directors, but they have never said, ok, I’m a lesbian. It’s part of the reason why lesbian cinema isn’t prolific in Korea. I sometimes get requests that I should make films about lesbians too, but it’s quite tricky for me because even if I make films about lesbians it will probably make it more difficult for female directors to make films about lesbians. The second reason is that I’m kind of a loner, so I don’t really know about gay communities in Korea – I do know well, but I don’t know very well. As for lesbian communities, I don’t have any idea about them. They are the two reasons why I haven’t made any lesbian films so far. I think it is also based on the structure of Asian society, which is based on patriarchy, so I guess it’s an Asian phenomenon that lesbian films are difficult to make. It’s much more difficult for a woman to come out of the closet and say that she is gay than a man, because if you are a man and if you are economically independent then you have less social disadvantages than a woman. It’s kind of trickier for Asian women to come out and say openly that she is lesbian. So it’s difficult for them to make films about lesbians. There are not many lesbian film makers in Asia, maybe some in China and Taiwan I know, but almost none in Japan or Korea who act openly as lesbian film makers. Another reason is that gay films can be consumed by female audiences, so women come to the cinema to see gay films but men don’t go to the cinema to watch lesbian films, I think, in general. Of course, pornographic films that feature two women can be consumed by male audiences as well, but it’s totally different when a lesbian film is made by a lesbian director who is the main force behind the film, it’s about her identity, then I think male audiences become less interested, or not interested at all. That’s the basic reality we have here in Asia.

Question: Why does Won-gyu always hesitate before he speaks? He’s always playing with things in his hands, like opening and closing the lighter, before he speaks.

Director Leesong: I didn’t want to give lines to the character of Won-gyu. Actually the actor who played Won-gyu, Won Tae-hee, he is quite a talkative and lively character. So I thought that if I didn’t give him any lines, that situation would already create a conflict within himself. We can see in a lot of dramas that the main character who has been hurt is saying they are in pain, asking people to recognize their pain, so we are kind of used to that, characters that speak about their situation loudly. That’s not the style I like, I don’t want to show it so obviously. I think in the films it’s much more appealing if you show these kinds of feelings in silence, sometimes. That’s why I choose to give him less lines. Tae-jun, the other character, is kind of the opposite, he speaks out at the moment about what he feels, that’s the contrast between the two characters. I also wanted to show Won-gyu’s little habits, like everyone has, for example I rip paper into little pieces when I meet people, and for Won-gyu he opens and closes things. This is how he shows his feelings, that’s how I chose to express his feelings.

Sincere thanks to director Leesong Hee-il for taking the time to answer the questions, and to Producer Hwang and Indieplus Cinema for translating and hosting the event.

Directors Interviews/Q&As
Jin-bae attempts to penetrate the security surrounding 'The Man's' residence

26 Years (26년) – ★★★★☆

26 Years (26년)

26 Years (26년)

The production history of 26 Years (26년) is an incredible tale. Based on the popular web-comic by Kang Full (강풀), the film adaptation has languished in development for years as companies refused to finance the film due to the politically sensitive story – with some claiming the conservative government were the source of pressure. Frustrated, producer Choi Yong-bae went an alternative route to secure funding through crowd-sourcing, attracting donations from over 15,000 people which in turn garnered larger sums from celebrities such as musician Lee Seung-hwan and TV personality Kim Je-dong.

As with the 2012’s other controversial film National Security (남영동 1985)26 Years was timed to coincide with the presidential election and held particular relevance. The revenge story is based on the May 1980 Gwangju massacre, where Korean troops brutally suppressed the democratic protests killing up to 2000 people. The man responsible – dictator Chun Doo-hwan – was sentenced to death but later pardoned, currently living in seclusion at taxpayers expense. With prior dictator Park Chun-hee’s daughter, Park Geun-hye, running for the 2012 presidency, 26 Years was a not-so-subtle attempt at reminding the public of her legacy. The result is an incredibly exciting thriller with a poignant emotional core, one that occasionally requires leaps in disbelief and sometimes stumbles in generating tension, but a film that nonetheless serves as a potent reminder of the raw, unresolved wound that for many continues to be a source of pain within the nation.

During the May 1980 Gwangju massacre, families were torn apart and forever scarred as loved ones were murdered before their eyes. 26 years later, the youths of the time have become adults and sought their way in life, yet the psychological scars that they carry from the time are still readily apparent. Kwak Jin-bae (Jin Goo (진구), who lost his father in the incident while his mother succumbed to psychological illness, has become a gangster at a nightclub. Sim Mi-jin (Han Hye-jin (한혜진) has become an Olympic marksman despite the death of her mother and father’s subsequent alcoholism. Police officer Kwon Jeong-hyeok (Seulong (임슬옹), whose sister was horrifically killed in front of him, is insulted further when tasked with helping the man responsible arrive home safely by changing traffic lights. When a former soldier who took part in the event called Kim Gap-se (Lee Kyeong-yeong (이경영) gathers the three together, they formulate a plan to finally kill ‘The Man’ (Jang Gwang, 장광) once and for all.

The team is recruited by former soldier Kim Gap-se and second-in-command Kim Joo-an

The team is recruited by former soldier Kim Gap-se and second-in-command Kim Joo-an

Director Jo Geun-hyeon (조근현) does an incredible job of conveying the pain and suffering endured by the events of the Gwangju massacre. In a truly stunning animated sequence the history of the tragedy is presented, as well as the specific horrors that the individuals – who later form the revenge squad – experience. While such an approach could easily be melodramatic and even insulting to the victims of the conflict, director Jo deftly sidesteps such concerns by conveying the stark, unadulterated terror that was inflicted upon the people. Blood, psychological breakdowns, rotting corpses and disembowelment all feature in frightening detail, not only exploring the abject brutality of the atrocity but also providing powerful impetus for the those effected.

The psychological scars brought about by the event are not ignored, and screenwriter Lee Hae-young deserves credit for their inclusion and elevating the narrative beyond a standard revenge thriller. Each protagonist has their own distinct neuroses, from Jin-bae’s outbursts of violence to Mi-jin’s cold and unemotional demeanor, and each serves a valuable purpose in the mission. Writer Lee also manages to include some wonderful moments, such as the oft-stated argument that dictator Chun was good for the country due to economic policies and the Olympic Games, a debate that is quietened simply through Jin-bae’s glare. In another, a police officer likens helping Chun arrive home safely to feeling ‘like being raped.’ These minor asides help to form a sense of Korean unity against corruption, and lend further legitimacy to the resentment against Chun and the assassination attempt.

Chun, however, is never mentioned directly and is simply referred to as ‘The Man’ throughout the film, although it’s quite clear who is the villain. As the former dictator, actor Jang Gwang gives a highly effective performance conveying the stubborn, unremorseful antagonist with skill despite appearing in relatively few scenes. Jang seems to be adept in playing nefarious roles, as exhibited as a true-life child molester in Silenced (도가니)and his performance in 26 Years is certainly one of the highlights of his career to date.

Jin-bae attempts to penetrate the security surrounding 'The Man's' residence

Jin-bae attempts to penetrate the security surrounding ‘The Man’s’ residence

The rest of the cast also fare well, however due to the quite ambitious task of including so many individuals and narrative facets their character development, as well as that of their mission, is somewhat stunted. Of them all, Jin Goo as violent gangster Jin-bae receives the most amount of screen-time as he gradually changes from thug to team leader. Jin Goo brings an intensity to the role and conveys the required physicality well, quickly becoming the central hero of the film and his presence is always engaging and entertaining. His relationship with Olympic sharpshooter Mi-jin however is quite convoluted and unnecessary, particularly as there are precious few moments that explore the team dynamics or the relationships between each member prior to the forced romance. Han Hye-jin has stated that she wanted to role of Mi-jin as she wanted an acting role (rather than simply one for her appearance) although she never really attempts to go beyond cold stoicism. Police officer Jeong-hyeok, played by Seulong, suffers the most in terms of focus and is often a whiny irritation. This is a shame considering his backstory is one of the most poignant, yet his motivations are never really explored. Lee Kyeong-yeong, who also starred in the aforementioned National Security, provides a unique perspective as a soldier forced to take part in the Gwangju massacre and performs well with the material he is provided, but again the great many facets within the narrative don’t allow further room to explore his guilt.

Despite the fairly brief character development once the team forms, their combined efforts during the assassination attempts are thrilling and adrenaline-inducing. Even though it is fictional, it is genuinely exciting, even cathartic, to see the man responsible for the Gwangju massacre in the crosshairs of a victim he created and as such brings a fresh perspective on the old debate between revenge and justice. The lines between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are continually blurred as a result, with the police and security officers set up as opposition but are themselves conflicted by their roles. While the attempts to kill ‘The Man’ occasionally require the odd leap of disbelief and are overly long, the audience investment generated throughout makes the action and tension incredibly engaging.

Mi-jin takes aim, ready to serve justice on the unrepentant dictator

Mi-jin takes aim, ready to serve justice on the unrepentant dictator

Verdict:

With an fraught production history finally culminating in crowd-sourcing, 26 Years is a great cinematic adaptation of Kang Full’s webcomic. With its politically sensitive story involving the 1980 Gwangju massacre and the subsequent pardoning of the dictator responsible, the film strikes an emotional chord despite the fictional revenge tale. Director Jo Geun-hyeon and writer Lee Hae-young have produced a highly engaging thriller and is a poignant reminder of the legacy of Chun Doo-hwan’s regime.

★★★★☆

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