Simon McEnteggart

The central couple share intimate moments

February 13, 2013January 31, 2015

Sleepless Night (잠 못 드는 밤) – ★★★★☆

Sleepless Night (잠 못 드는 밤)

Since its premiere at the 2012 Jeonju International Film Festival, Sleepless Night (잠 못 드는 밤) has gone on to feature in several high profile festivals on a number of continents, garnering awards both at home and abroad. Director Jang Kun-jae’s (장건재) film, about a couple who explore the possibility of starting a family two years into their marriage, thoroughly deserves such accolades as he has produced an incredibly charming and heartwarming drama. The no-frills approach employed in director Jang’s insightful exploration conveys palpable realism, while the performances by Kim Su-hyeon (김수현) and Kim Joo-ryeong (김주령) as husband and wife Hyeon-soo and Joo-hee are beautifully sincere and poignant. The editing, as well as lack of a traditional sense of resolution, detract from the impact of the film somewhat yet despite this Sleepless Night is a truly touching independent feature and a highly refreshing viewing experience.

The central couple share intimate moments

Married for two years, Hyeon-soo and Joo-hee are still deeply in love. Their devotion to each other is conveyed through small, subtle actions like riding waiting for each other after work, washing one another in the shower, and longing stares while sleeping. The love between them is wonderfully profound and uplifting, and conveyed with stunning sincerity by the lead actors who never for an instant appear lacking in commitment. Director Jang examines their thoughts regarding starting a family through the couples daily routines and activities, portraying their evolving feelings on the subject as born naturally through the confrontations that transpire, promoting the believability of the situation. Financial and employment worries as the couple struggle to make ends meet, as well as pressure from parents and discussions with friends, also factor into the decision making process that lend credibility to their anxieties despite their clear love for each other.

Hyeon-soo and Joo-hee consider trying to start a family

The apprehension and worry that such encounters generate leads to the titular ‘sleepless night’, whereby Hyeon-soo and Joo-hee experience their worst fears through bad dreams. Director Jang does a wonderful job of seamlessly placing the deep-rooted psychological fears within the narrative, as well as insightfully portraying how each has interpreted different concerns over their prospective future. In fact, due to the rather unrefined editing within Sleepless Night, it is initially difficult to ascertain that such scenes were dreams at all, with the confusion created an unwelcome distraction from otherwise interesting sequences.

Due to the inherent realism and the nature of the narrative, the notion of a traditional ‘arc’ has been rejected. This method is particularly refreshing, as contrivances and ill-fitting events don’t makes their presences known and the film is all the stronger for it. The development of the protagonists is subtle and gentle, and therein lies the charisma as the personal issues are allowed to shine and develop naturally. However, perhaps due to conditioning from prior dramas, the lack of some form of resolution to their situation is a little unsatisfactory. Yet the superb acting by both Kim Joo-ryeong and Kim Su-hyeon is so compelling and alluring throughout that Sleepless Night is, despite the absence of resolution, an uplifting and illuminating experience.

Still very much in love, the couple do everything together

Verdict:

Sleepless Night is a beautifully understated, wonderfully compelling independent drama about a couple discussing the daunting subject of starting a family. Director Jang Kun-jae has produced an insightful exploration of the issue, while his no-frills approach conveys palpable realism and sincerity. Lead actors Kim Joo-ryeong and Kim Su-hyeon provide superb, heartfelt performances throughout. While the editing is somewhat unrefined, Sleepless Night is a charismatic film deserving of its accolades.

★★★★☆

Reviews

Jong-tae is tortured with electricity by Lee Doo-han, known as 'The Undertaker'

February 11, 2013February 24, 2015

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National Security (남영동 1985) – ★★★★☆

National Security (남영동1985)

National Security (남영동 1985), based on the true story of the illegal imprisonment and torture of activist Kim Jong-tae (김종태), is a difficult and thought-provoking viewing experience. The second feature after director Chung Ji-young’s (정지영) 13 year hiatus from film making – after popular courtroom drama Unbowed (부러진 화살), also based on a true story – National Security is stark and uncompromising in portraying the abject humiliation and pain inflicted upon an innocent man. Such boldness was also reflected in the timing of the film. Turning heads and garnering strong reviews during the premiere at the 2012 Busan International Film Festival, National Security was distributed nationally at the end of November, coinciding with the run up to the presidential elections.

While the film didn’t achieve the implied intention of halting conservative candidate – and dictator Park Chung-hee’s daughter – Park Geun-hye from winning the election, National Security is nonetheless a powerful film about the human rights abuses conducted at the notorious Namyeong-dong detention facility during the 1980s. While it occasionally suffers from repetition and lack of focus on the central protagonist, National Security is a highly compelling and captivating drama, and another great example of the politicization of contemporary mainstream Korean cinema.

In September 1985, senior ranking democracy activist Kim Jong-tae (Park Won-sang (박원상) is abducted and taken to the infamous Namyeong-dong prison, where torture and false confessions are commonplace occurrences. Through intimidation and bullying, the jailers force information from Jong-tae about his past with the Youth Federation for Democracy and his role in the movement against the military dictatorship of fascist Chun Do-hwan. When his answers aren’t what they want, the next 22 days are spent humiliating and abusing Jong-tae through beatings, water-boarding, and electricity, led by Lee Doo-han (Lee Kyeong-yeong, 이경영), also known as ‘The Undertaker’.

Jong-tae is stripped naked and humiliated as preparations for torture begin

Director Chung’s minimalist style is incredible in capturing Jong-tae’s predicament. The stark, washed-out tones coupled with the bare, dirty ‘interrogation’ room in which most of the film takes place, perfectly convey the hopelessness of the situation and the sheer lack of anything humane in Jong-tae’s environment. The director, who also co-wrote the script with three other writers, takes his time in building tension by slowly pacing the torture and humiliations that the central protagonist experiences making for compelling, and occasionally difficult to watch, scenes. Indeed, when Jong-tae first enters the detention room and is forced to strip naked and deprived of sleep and food, the tension is palpable and the emotional resonance disturbing. Yet as physical punishments are initiated and become more and more severe, the pressure is heightened and empathy deepened to the extreme. The torture techniques themselves, gathered from Kim Jong-tae’s memoirs and other prisoner accounts, are portrayed with frightening realism as water-boarding and electric shock methods are enacted, with the consequences quite horrifying. Yet while disturbing and powerful, such scenes of torture become quite repetitive over time as similar acts are enacted again and again, diluting their potency and causing the second act to stall for a period of time.

The laissez-faire attitude towards torture by the guards is also one of the striking features of National Security. Director Chung does an admirable job in providing each of the jailers distinct personalities, conveying them not as evil but as men with few prospects. The relationships that build between Jong-tae and the guards are the source of ironic dark humour, as problems are shared and advice given before the humiliations begin once again. The most fascinating characterization is bestowed upon Lee Doo-han, also known as ‘The Undertaker’. Actor Lee Kyeong-yeong performs the role effectively, conveying the clinical precision and arrogant professionalism of the torture specialist. Whenever he appears on screen, the subtle charisma commands respect while his arrival signifies further pain for Jong-tae, making Doo-han a genuine love-to-hate antagonist.

Jong-tae is tortured with electricity by Lee Doo-han, known as ‘The Undertaker’

While great effort has been taken to provide characterization for Doo-han and the guards, oddly the same cannot be said for Jong-tae himself. In spending so much interest in secondary characters, director Chung appears to have forgotten about the most central one, an issue that also applied with his prior film Unbowed. Aside from a few fantasy sequences and a welcome although belated flashback, director Chung doesn’t really provide Jong-tae with enough history and information to create strong empathy with audiences, relying instead on audience awareness, and the shock of scenes of torture, to do so instead. Despite this, actor Park Won-sang is incredible in the role and performs with sincerity throughout, from moments of abject hunger and tiredness through to horrifying moments of torture. Yet the actor always manages to convey a sense of quiet dignity, even when his actions suggest otherwise.

In a fascinating turnaround, National Security ends with Jong-tae’s career in politics in 2004, working within Korea’s fledgling democratic system to bring the events at Namyeong-dong to light and to halt such abuses from occurring again. Such scenes are powerful reminders of how recent such events were, and that many who were abused, as well as those who committed atrocities, are still alive. It is a fitting finale for such a poignant film, and serves well to instill a sense of modest victory amongst audiences, particularly those from Korea itself, although insinuates that there is still work to be done.

A prominent politician in 2004, Jong-tae works to ensure such atrocities never happen again

Verdict:

National Security is a powerful, disturbing film about the human rights abuses suffered by democratic rights campaigner Kim Jong-tae at Namyeong-dong detention center in 1985. Director Chung Ji-young employs his minimalist style highly effectively in depicting scenes of humiliation and torture, allowing for the horror of the acts to speak for themselves. As the central protagonist actor Park Won-sang performs with incredible sincerity, while he characterization of the guards, and of ‘The Undertaker’ Lee Doo-han in particular, are developed, love-to-hate antagonists. National Security is a poignant reminder of the importance of human rights, and is a welcome addition in the politicization of contemporary Korean cinema.

★★★★☆

Reviews

Stas attempts to rid himself of heroin addiction through nature

February 8, 2013January 31, 2015

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Hanaan (하나안) – ★★★☆☆

Hanaan (하나안)

The experiences of Korean immigrants abroad are not an oft-featured theme within mainstream Korean cinema. This is surprising considering the sheer number of the populace that make the transition to foreign soil every year, as well as the historical relevance of the scores of people who fled the country due to Japanese colonization and the Korean War itself.

Independent drama Hanaan (하나안), a co-production between Korea and Uzbekistan, explores the lives of third-generation Korean descendants of ancestors deported from the Soviet Union by Stalin. Written and directed by Pak Ruslan (박루슬란), the urban cop-drama is a gritty and raw examination of the difficulties of cultural assimilation, and the all-too-easy fall from grace into crime and addiction. The story is rather unoriginal, yet director Pak’s use of locations and dissection of cultural themes makes for an intriguing foray into the lives of Korean-Uzbeks.

Stas (Stanislav Tyan (스타니슬라브 티안) is a third generation Korean living in Uzbekistan, studying to be a cop and to make a difference. Yet his studies are frequently uninterrupted by his friends Kahoy (Dmitry Eum (드미트리 엄), Maha (Bahodir Musaev (바호디르 무사에프) and Said (IIlbek Faiziev (일벡 파이지에프), who are often involved in criminal activity including habitual heroin use. When Kahoy’s brother is attacked by thugs the group set out for revenge, yet the plan drastically backfires when Kahoy is killed. 6 years later, Stas is finally a cop but is overburdened by the sheer abundance of criminality both within society and the police force itself. In a moment of desperate frustration Stas gives in to the temptation of heroin, and must try to claw his way back and find his personal ‘Hanaan’, the land of promise.

Stas enjoys hanging out with friends as he studies to become a cop

One of the great strengths of Hanaan is the manner in which director Pak employs locations to emphasize the plight of his protagonists. The street scenes of Uzbekistan are dilapidated and foreboding, conveying a sense of purgatory and depression that the characters are trapped within. Such a stark atmosphere of disillusionment lends credence to the habitual use of heroin Stas and co. partake in, yet in becoming junkies the landscapes alter to highlight their isolation, which are often dank, claustrophobic, revoltingly grimy arenas. The use of syringes in such locations – often public bathrooms – adds potency to such scenes, as the friends experience a sense of faux-euphoria in such squalid places, while further tragedy is incurred through the use of shared needles and the continual downward spiral of their lives. However, aside from the locations the depth of heroin abuse is not conveyed emotionally nor given the necessary weight for the addiction to be a serious issue, which could have been solved with greater character development but which is curiously absent.

Director Pak does well in exploring the cultural difficulties of the region through Stas. As the film opens, his daughter asks for a fairy tale and in response Stas tells the story of the persecution against Koreans by Stalin. The historical story not only emphasizes that Korean immigrants have never forgotten the abuse they suffered by handing it down through the generations, but also that from a young age their descendants must mature quickly to survive in the new harsh environment.

The locations within Hanaan convey the hopelessness of existence

Yet Stas is not alone in feeling victimized by history. In an entertaining scene during a stakeout, Stas and a fellow cop argue and tease each other about their origins as well as how well they have assimilated Uzbeki and/or Russian culture, using racist language in an attempt to emerge as the more legitimate immigrant. The use of handheld camerawork to such scenes adds realism and articulates the gritty urban sensibilities of the characters, a technique which is also particularly effective during action and chase scenes.

While such features combine to give Hanaan a fresh approach in examining the notion of ‘Korean-ness’ and the immigrant experience, the main narrative arc of the film is far from original. Treading familiar territory is in itself no bad thing, yet director Pak doesn’t really offer anything new and engaging in his tale of drug abuse and corruption. The police operation to catch drug suppliers is almost ridiculously easy for Stas and his colleagues and as such holds no real tension, while the subsequent corruption that arises within the force itself is glazed over with brief office scenes. The lack of an emotional core within Hanaan also highlights the limitations of the actors who, while competent, don’t exude the gravitas required for the story to be a poignant and compelling exploration of drug abuse and the rocky path to redemption.

Stas attempts to rid himself of heroin addiction through nature

Verdict:

Hanaan deserves credit for exploring the oft-ignored plight of Korean immigrants abroad, and highlighting their historical struggles of cultural assimilation. Director Pak Ruslan employs effective use of stark, purgatorial landscapes to emphasize inner turmoil, while the handheld camerawork conveys realism to the proceedings. However, the story is hampered by a rather unoriginal premise, underdeveloped characters and absence of an emotional core, making the Korean-Uzbek co-production an intriguing, but lacking, crime drama.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

As the meetings between the Queen and Hong-rim increase, so does their love

February 7, 2013September 7, 2015

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A Frozen Flower (쌍화점) – ★★★☆☆

A Frozen Flower (쌍화점)

The dynasties within Korean history are captivating periods for epic, romantic storytelling. As well as the threat of war from without and the corruption seemingly endemic within, the beautiful clothing and rigid social hierarchy allow for wonderfully passionate tales of forbidden love and scandal, of desperate lovers defying duty for intense moments of lust.

A Frozen Flower, written and directed by Yoo Ha, fits such a mold perfectly. With issues ranging from coerced tributes to foreign lands to the lack of a royal heir, the drama attempts to provide a grand, sweeping story of love and intrigue during the Goryeo period. The inclusion of gay lovers – in the form of the King and his bodyguard – is somewhat of an extension of the themes present within the prior The King and the Clown, yet the relationship takes on new life due to the love triangle with the Queen and the explicit sexual scenes that occur. As such the film is wonderfully passionate tale of love and jealousy in old Korea, but one that ultimately feels like a high-budgeted TV drama.

At a young age, the King of Goryeo (Joo Jin-mo (주진모) initiated training for a select group of boys who would grow to become his elite bodyguards. Such soldiers are desperately required given the assassination attempts on his life by outsiders and corrupt officials. Yet in adulthood, the King has taken the chief of the elite force, Hong-rim (Jo In-Seong (조인성) as his lover. The relationship is something of an open secret within the court, which only serves to compound an important issue – the lack of an heir. Despite his marriage to a princess of neigbouring Yuan, the country threatens to remove the King’s power should an heir not be produced. Unable to bring himself to bed the Queen (Song Ji-hyo (송지효), the King orders Hong-rim to impregnate her on his behalf as he’s the only person that can be trusted. Yet in complying with the King’s demands, a chain of events begin to unfold that none could foresee.

The relationship between the King of Goryeo and chief Hong-rim is an open secret

A Frozen Flower ticks many of the boxes that make Korean period dramas so attractive and romantic. Director Yoo Ha captures the beauty of the era well as the actors gracefully go about their lives at court, whether through ornate ceremonies or simply resting at the palace and indulging in traditional Korean pastimes. The most prominent feature of the film are the relationships between the central protagonists, and the director wastes no time in establishing the connection that exists between the King and Hong-rim. The affection and love expressed is palpable, as Hong-rim’s concern over the King’s health is wonderfully conveyed through actions and mannerisms, while the King refuses to leave his lovers side even when faced with mortal danger. Director Yoo plays with the notion of gender incredibly well with all the cast but especially in regards to the King and Hong-rim, emphasizing their feminine attributes through colour, costume and particularly hair. The passionate sex scene between them is skillfully framed and conveys their gender as meaningless, as both men embody masculine and feminine qualities through their performance so that only their passion and devotion is of importance. Such androgyny is also ascribed to the Queen who is conveyed as the most stoic and ‘masculine’ of the three. In each case, the actors wonderfully express the fluid notion of gender and sexuality that they embody, making the concept of gender one of the more fascinating aspects of the film.

The sexual scenes between the Queen and Hong-rim are arguably the most renowned feature of A Frozen Flower, and director Yoo captures the raw passion of their physical encounters with effective close ups and vibrant red tones. Yet the repetition of such scenes are undoubtedly a rather cynical attempt to offset the gay context that exists within the narrative, whilst the male fantasy of justified sexual exploitation makes for rather uncomfortable viewing initially. Both Song Ji-hyo and Jo In-seong perform the sex scenes with incredible intensity and sincerity, although the idea that the couple could fall in love purely through sexual encounters is one of the weaker aspects of the story, especially when the cold stoicism of Song Ji-hyo’s performance suggests manipulation and desperation rather than love.

The King orders Hong-rim and the Queen to produce an heir

Due to the great focus on the evolving relationships between the central protagonists, the political sub-plot of corruption in the court is rather superfluous. The inclusion of such issues are generally an excuse to include action within the narrative, yet this in turn highlights the TV drama quality that perpetuates the film. The choreography is bland and uninspired, while surface wounds seem to cause instantaneous death to miscellaneous enemies that don’t really serve any purpose. Action is also director Yoo’s weakest area as he often steps back from the confrontations, and as such tension and danger don’t really build effectively. The camerawork throughout A Frozen Flower further contributes to the TV drama sensibilities as there is little flair on display that evokes the sweeping romantic epic that the film intends to be. Additionally the mise-en-scene, while featuring attractive decor and props, don’t contain the beauty and vibrancy that has come to be expected from such period dramas.

However despite such criticisms, A Frozen Flower is very much a film centered on the love and lust of the three central figures and in this regard is captivating and enthralling. The exploration of sexuality, gender, lust and love are executed wonderfully giving the film a potent emotional core, while the passion and vibrancy conveyed through the sexual scenes, particularly between the Queen and Hong-rim, are beautifully produced.

As the meetings between the Queen and Hong-rim increase, so does their love

Verdict:

A Frozen Flower is a wonderfully sexy tale of love and lust during the Goryeo dynasty. Through skilled use of costume, colour and appearance, director Yoo Ha plays with the notion of gender while exploring the relationships between the King, Queen and Chief bodyguard which are central to the film, conveying palpable passion through confrontational and sexual scenes. Yet the limited scale of the directing, as well as the uninspired action and court scenes, exude a TV drama sensibility throughout the running time. Despite this, A Frozen Flower is a highly enjoyable and racy story of debauchery.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

The story ends just as the relationship begins

February 6, 2013January 31, 2015

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The Winter of the Year was Warm (내가 고백을 하면) – ★★★☆☆

The Winter of the Year was Warm (내가 고백을 하면)

All too often, cinematic representations of love employ a host of cliches and happenstance in order for lovelorn individuals to meet. While the predictability of such narrative devices are relished by some and despised by others, the sense of realism is more often than not shunned in favor of more crowd-pleasing moments that bring the couple closer.

The Winter of the Year was Warm (내가 고백을 하면) soundly rejects such notions. Director David Cho (조성규) has constructed a story whereby the blossoming romance that features is very much a natural development born out of the drama that occurs, and as such is a refreshing and quite charming tale. Ironically therein also lies the main issue with the film, in that director Cho spends so much time establishing the lives of the central couple and the origins of the burgeoning romance that there is little payoff.

Operating as a theater owner and film director, Seoulite In-seong (Kim Tae-woo (김태우) loves nothing more than to visit the coastal city of Gangneung at the weekends to rest and enjoy the local cuisine. However, Gangneung resident nurse Yoo-jeong (Ye Ji-won (예지원) travels to Seoul every weekend to escape daily stress and experience the culture of the capital city. As the two meet by chance and become increasingly more acquainted, In-seong and Yoo-jeong agree to swap apartments at weekends to make their travels more convenient. In doing so, they discover more about each other and realise they have more in common than they first believed.

Initially reluctant, nurse Yoo-jeong agrees to swap homes with film maker In-seong at weekends

Director Cho, who has produced an incredible amount of films over the past few years, uses his knowledge of the film industry well in conveying In-seong’s frustrations at working in the business. The variety of meetings with odd film professionals and his continual begging for funds are humourous to watch, more so for those familiar with the industry. The comedy throughout The Winter of the Year was Warm is not of the laugh-out-loud variety, but of the ironies and quirky moments that occur in life that subtly gesture in new avenues and experiences. Such comic social realism is also ascribed with Yoo-jeong. Due to the selfishness of her Seoulite friend, Yoo-jeong is forced to sleep at a motel and listen to the amourous moans of neighbouring couples, a funny event that forces her to consider finding a home in Seoul. Through the gentle pacing and delicate characterisation, it becomes clear that both Yoo-jeong and In-seong seek an escape from the stresses in their lives, running to different cities in a bid to alleviate tension yet, ironically, tend to encounter more.

Through a chance meeting at a coffee shop in Gangneung, which serves as the ‘hub’ of the film, In-seong and Yoo-jeong become acquainted. The awkwardness of the first meeting is conveyed well by the actors who perform with a natural sincerity that is quite charming, while the long-takes used by the director imply a level of realism that makes their meeting wholly believable. In a more contrived romantic-drama the couple would immediately discuss the option of exchanges homes for the weekend and agree, but it’s to the films credit that Yoo-jeong refuses. Her hesitation on the matter is logically sound given that they are unfamiliar, and it’s a decision that allows the narrative to explore their gradual development and burgeoning relationship.

After a trip to the karaoke room, In-seong and Yoo-jeong become closer

While such a sensitive portrayal of their fledgling relationship is refreshing and lends credibility, it is during this time that the narrative becomes stuck. The establishment of Yoo-jeong’s life as a nurse and relationship woes are portrayed well and serve as a great counterpoint to In-seong, yet most other scenes are often superfluous and add little impetus to the main story. This is undoubtedly director Cho’s intention, to capture the smaller, more trivial moments of life, but it becomes bland rather quickly. In fact, there are a great many scenes which could easily be edited out without affecting the overall story, as much of the second act is spent attempting to expand characterization without really providing much in the way of new, or interesting, information.

The Winter of the Year was Warm does thankfully pickup however once the home exchange has been agreed. It is through these scenes that the film finds its originality as the two explore each others tastes in films and music, and are forced to communicate as they break house rules due to bad habits. The swap also instigates some of most humourous scenes in the entire film, and it’s a real shame this area wasn’t expanded upon further as they are genuinely enjoyable and propel the relationship forward. Such irony even strikes the finale of the romantic-drama, as the relationship just starts blossom into romance as the film ends, leaving the audience to surmise how the couple become even closer.

The story ends just as the relationship begins

Verdict:

By employing a greater focus on gentle social realism and irony, The Winter of the Year was Warm is a refreshing take on the romantic-drama. Director David Cho has created a quite charming tale of two middle-aged singletons attempting to escape their daily lives yet finding something more, employing subtle development and humourous satire to enjoyable effect. While the second act goes on for too long, the film picks up once their homes have been exchanged and they discover more about each other, serving to make the film a quite charming exploration of the origins of romance.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

Ruthless Myeong-soo visits Berlin to find the mole, but gets more than he bargained for

February 2, 2013January 31, 2015

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The Berlin File (베를린) – ★★★★☆

The Berlin File (베를린)

The hype generated for writer/director Ryoo Seung-wan’s (류승완) latest action-thriller The Berlin File (베를린) has been fierce. Boasting a stellar line-up of acting talent, and with the director’s last film The Unjust (부당거래) proving popular with audiences and critics alike, curiosity has been fervent as to whether director Ryoo could take his trademark mix of multiple narratives and high-octane action to the next level.

The Berlin File features a genuine evolution in director Ryoo’s style, with some of the most adrenaline-inducing action sequences in recent memory and a huge leap up from his prior films. Yet as with his past filmography, The Berlin File is also stunted by far too many protagonists and a highly convoluted narrative, while his preoccupation with male characters relegates Jeon Ji-hyeon (전지현) to the sidelines. However, the director must be congratulated for the scale of the film, not only for filming in a foreign country with the inclusion of several languages, but also for featuring a North Korean spy as the hero of the film.

After a weapons deal in Berlin goes wrong, top North Korean agent Pyo Jong-seong (Ha Jeong-woo (하정우) attempts to flee the scene. Unbeknownst to him however are the South Korean agents on his tail, led by Jeong Jin-soo (Han Seok-Kyu (한석규). As the two men clash Jong-seong manages to escape back to his safe house and wife Ryeon Jeong-hee (Jeon Ji-hyeon (전지현), who works as a translator – and ‘entertainer’ – at the North Korean consulate. With the new Kim Jong-un government establishing themselves, suspicions arise that a traitor exists in the Berlin offices. Dispatching ruthless North Korean agent Dong Myeong-soo (Ryoo Seung-beom (류승범) to find the mole, all the evidence seemingly points to Jeong-hee. Yet Jong-seong and Myeong-soo come into conflict, tensions reach breaking point when the CIA, Mossad, Arabic forces and the South Korean agency all enter the fray, leading to a violent showdown.

Following a botched weapons deal, North Korean agent Jong-seong’s life is in danger

With The Berlin File, director Ryoo has eschewed the reverential martial arts fare of his prior films in favor of the brutal espionage style exhibited within The Bourne Supremacy/Ultimatum, and emerged all the stronger for it. Indeed, the director has adopted many of the features of Paul Greengrass’ spy classics by utilising a moving camera and rapid editing during the lighting-quick action sequences, producing some of best work of his career and representing a true evolution in his abilities. In addition to the exhilarating action and stunt work, the danger of the spy world is wonderfully conveyed. The various betrayals and secret dealings between the disparate agencies produce an intense atmosphere of uncertainty and distrust that continually keeps the audience guessing, harnessing the paranoia of the Cold War era in a contemporary context. By tapping into the fear of the transitioning North Korean government, the story achieves potency as the war for information and power takes on an all-too-real aspect that serves to heighten tension further. Similarly the choice of Berlin is a masterstroke given its history, and director Ryoo films the city as if it were a character itself. The distinctly European style coffee shops and restaurants, the lively streets and the shadowy alleyways all converge to portray the German capital as a hub of culture and intrigue, and one where danger lies at every turn.

Placing a North Korean agent as the ‘hero’ of The Berlin File is also an enthralling decision, representing a genuine shift in the relevance of protagonists from the country. Just as Shiri (쉬리) opened up a wave of storytelling regarding ‘brotherhood’ between the two nations, The Berlin File takes it a step further by emphasizing Jong-seong as more active than his South Korean counterpart Jin-soo, despite the corruption that blights them both. As the top spy of the communist country, Ha Jeong-woo gives a great performance and is highly convincing as the cold, detached secret agent. His lines in English and German are delivered with confidence and assuredness and are quite impressive throughout, while his composure during action sequences mark him out as a genuine action star. Ryoo Seung-beom also handles himself particularly well as ruthless agent Dong Myeong-soo, conveying an unsettling villainy with cocky self-assurance that serves as a great counterpoint to Jong-seong’s naivety. It is acutely fitting that Shiri star Han Seok-Kyu features within the film as older South Korean agent Jin-soo, almost forming as an angrier, more frustrated extension of the prior character. While he occasionally stumbles when performing in English the actor conveys the bitter frustration of his situation convincingly. Unfortunately, out of all the protagonists it’s Jeon Ji-hyeon who is short-changed as translator Jeong-hee. The actress performs the role with skill, however it simply isn’t developed enough for her to display her talent, and as such she functions as little more than a damsel in distress.

Jong-seong’s wife, translator Jeong-hee, comes under suspicion as a traitor

The issues with Jeon Ji-hyeon’s underdeveloped role highlights the main, and rather large, issue within The Berlin File. There are just far too many characters within the narrative, each containing their own history and motivations for taking part in the proceedings, enacting scores of double-crosses with those around them to achieve their goals. Director Ryoo ambitiously attempts to give service to every faction and individual, yet in doing so he loses focus on the core protagonists and as a result their development suffers. The array of narrative tangents also bogs down the main impetus of Jong-seong’s mission which a great deal of time and effort was spent constructing, while the variety of betrayals and red herrings that occur make the plot a confusing, and somewhat frustrating, viewing experience.

Perhaps for this reason director Ryoo seems unsure how to finish his spy thriller, and as a result the finale boils down to something of a stereotypical stand-off seen in generic action films. To the directors credit, the final act is indeed exciting as gunfire hails from all directions while physical confrontations feature some vicious, wince-inducing moments. Yet despite the exhilarating fun of watching the good and bad guys duke it out in the high stakes battle, it’s difficult not to feel that it is mismatched with what came before, and that a less convoluted plot would have ultimately led to a more rewarding finale.

Ruthless Myeong-soo visits Berlin to find the mole, but gets more than he garbained for

Ruthless Myeong-soo visits Berlin to find the mole, but gets more than he bargained for

Verdict:

The Berlin File represents a stylistic evolution for director Ryoo Seung-wan, featuring some of the best action and stunt sequences in recent memory and arguably the best of his career. The director captures the paranoia of the spy world with confidence and skill, employing the city of Berlin incredibly well as the location of espionage. While the over-abundance of characters and narrative tangents bog down Jong-seong’s mission, director Ryoo deserves credit for going beyond the themes of ‘brotherhood’ by actually placing a North Korean agent as the ‘hero’ of the film, making The Berlin File an exhilarating, if somewhat convoluted, spy thriller.

★★★★☆

Reviews

The tributes for Lee So-seon following her death are moving

January 31, 2013January 31, 2015

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Mother (어머니) – ★★★☆☆

Mother (어머니)

The past 100 years of Korean history is fraught with tragedy. From occupations by neighbouring Japan and the resulting atrocities, through to several coups, the Park Chung-hee dictatorship, and the hard-fought struggle for democracy, the people of Korea have endured generations of adversity in a staggeringly short period.

With documentary feature Mother (어머니), director Tae Jun-seek (태준식) follows the final two years in the life of Lee So-seon (이소선), also known as ‘the Mother of Workers’. The mother of the iconic human rights campaigner Jeon Tae-il (전태일), Le So-seon has worked tirelessly since his death in 1970 protesting for workers rights and equality.

Yet with this documentary, director Tae sidesteps the past of his central figure and instead focuses on her present and the legacy that she created. As such, Mother is a very sweet and charming exploration into elderly Lee So-seon’s final years, yet the absence of information about her past achievements – which the audience are presumed to already be aware of – highly detracts from the impact of witnessing such a powerful historical figure live out her final years.

Lee So-seon continually displays dignity and strength of character

Mother is a lovely and fitting tribute to Lee So-seon, with director Tae capturing her dignity and strength of character effortlessly. Her good humour positively radiates as she cracks jokes and mocks those around her with a playfulness that belies her years. Similarly Lee So-seon’s ideology of equality and humanitarianism shines throughout the film, not only in answering probing questions but just as sincerely through her everyday activities. Her natural charisma draws people close, and the opening sequence of Mother– in which a host of different people help Lee So-seon to traverse up a hill path – perfectly conveys her status as a much loved and respected figure in the community. Director Tae’s style in filming Lee So-seon is gentle and unassuming, allowing for her mannerisms and anecdotes whilst undertaking daily routines to come to the fore, with the realism that this styles exudes subtly but effectively conveying her resilience and indomitable will.

Yet director Tae falls into the trap that so many Korean directors suffer from, in that he expects the audience to have full awareness of contemporary Korean history and by extension Lee So-seon’s, and her late son Jeon Tae-il’s, historical relevance and achievements. For those who are fully-reversed in modern Korean history Mother contains genuine poignancy in watching such a strong figure live out her final years with dignity, but for those ignorant – primarily young Korean and foreign audiences – the emotional impact of the documentary is lessened to a great degree. Director Tae clearly wishes to focus on this particular period of Lee So-seon’s life and the respect and tributes that are paid in her honour, yet without the prerequisite knowledge of her life it is left to the audience to guess, through piecing together the clues throughout the documentary, why she has earned them. The play of Lee So-seon’s life emphasizes this trend, as a Taiwanese director travels to Korea to help orchestrate the production, and it is only through watching the performance that the audience comes to understand some of the tragedy she had to endure.

Theater actors attempt to create a story about Lee So-seon’s life

However director Tae does seem to be aware of this issue. While most of the running time is spent documenting Lee So-seon’s last movements with a scattering of hints alluding to her historical prominence, her death is the catalyst for an expansion on her achievements. The overwhelming tributes that occur and the marches that take place in her honour are simply incredible, and are edited with black and white scenes of Lee So-seon at demonstrations and rallies in support of workers rights. Such scenes are particularly effective in conveying her motivations and role in contemporary Korean history. While moving, such scenes are nevertheless too little too late as they provide context only after the final moments of her life. Indeed, had such context been present at the start of the documentary – and running throughout it – Lee So-seon’s remaining years would have conveyed much greater poignancy. Yet as it stands, Mother is – for the uninitiated at least – a sweetnatured documentary about a charming, kind, and strong-willed lady who meets her end with dignity.

The tributes for Lee So-seon following her death are moving

Verdict:

Mother is a loving and gentle tribute documenting the final years of Lee So-seon, a human rights campaigner who has worked tirelessly since the death of her son Jeon Tae-il in 1970. Director Tae Jun-seek captures her spirit in a highly reverential manner, with his gentle style allowing her charisma to shine through. Yet he also expects the audience to be fully aware of Lee So-son’s history and achievements and as such doesn’t provide context, meaning for the uninitiated that the film loses an enormous amount of poignancy.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

January 30, 2013January 31, 2015

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Mother (어머니) screening and Q&A with director Tae Jun-seek (태준식)

Mother (어머니)

A special screening of independent documentary feature Mother (어머니) was held at Indieplus in Gangnam, on the 29th of January. Director Tae Jun-seek (태준식) was also in attendance, and very kindly answered the questions posed by the audience following the screening.

Mother (어머니) is a documentary that follows the final two years in the life of activist Lee So-seon (이소선), a powerful figure in the battle for human rights for workers. Her late-son, Jeon Tae-il (전태일), is a legendary figure throughout Korea and other Asian nations for his dedication to improving rights for laborers. His protests against the abuses and of the dictatorship of Park Chung-hee (박정희) during the ’70s actually had the opposite effect as the government brought further exploitation, and as a result the then 22 year old set himself on fire. Jeon Tae-il’s death galvanized the workers’ rights movement, and since then Lee So-seon has tirelessly campaigned in his memory. Rather than focus on her efforts however, director Tae Jun-seek explores Lee So-seon’s final moments on Earth and her indomitable will in the face of ailing health.

Following the screening, the Q&A was translated by independent film producer Hwang Hye-rim (황혜림). Producer Hwang began by asking about the background of the film, and how director Tae began the project.

Director Tae Jun-seek: Well first, as producer Hwang explained, Jeon Tae-il is really one of the most important figures in modern South Korean history to the extent that he’s almost like a myth. And he’s a very important figure not just in Korean history, but also he was an inspiration to other countries in north-east Asia. He’s like a figure that symbolizes struggles for democracy in these areas. That’s one of the reasons you can see the director of the play (within Mother) is from Taiwan. That’s part of the reason why he was willing to do a play about him. I think the reason it was possible, the whole journey that Jeon Tae-il had, was because of his mother and even after his death Lee So-seon was very faithful to what her son believed and she tried very hard to keep those principles throughout her life. And that made me curious about her. What could make her strong like that? What could make a person like her? That was the start of the journey of this film. In this film you can see just a part of her life, but I thought it would be meaningful to show that part of her life, to understand Jeon Tae-il and also to understand Korean democracy. So I met her in 2009. I visited her, and told her I wanted to make a film of her. That was the start of the film.

Lee So-seon’s everyday life is revealed during her final years

Producer Hwang Hye-rim: I should also give you a little bit of information about director Tae. He started his film making as an activist and a documentary film maker in Labor News Production, which was one of two of the earliest film documentary companies in Korea. The other was Documentary Pureun Audio/Video Collective. These are the two companies that started making productions back in the ’80s, on the scene of the struggle. So he started as one of the members of Labor News Production and produced a lot of documentaries and newsreels, and feature documentaries as well, which included mostly the scenes of struggles, and depictions of real life.

Question: Because Jeon Tae-il is already very iconic figure, and his mother is also a big figure, it must have been quite a challenge to start a story and make a story out of it. What kind of concerns do you have when you started?

Director Tae: Well it’s been a while since this film was released, it was released last year (2012) in Spring. I kind of thought afterwards, “Gosh I really chose a really really big figure for my film.” It was probably almost impossible to tell her story in a feature documentary. And also I had pressure from time as she was dying at the time and she passed away during filming. So I was running out of time, and I had this pressure of having to finish as soon as possible. So that was the limit I had, from nature. But the idea arose from the first meeting I had with her. I knew about this person from documents, I read a lot about her, I thought I knew about her, but from the first meeting she kind of gave me this inspiration on how I should tell her story. Because she was even back then, in her last days, still very funny, very interesting, and a very strong person. And I thought maybe it would be ok to tell her story from the present, to start the story from now, and not giving too much information ahead, but telling the story from her present and make a story out of it. I thought she was a beautiful person and strong enough to be in the film as she was. That was part of the intention, to make the story like this. Also I thought that I definitely need a long time to film her, and after a while I thought it would be effective to have a structure to go back to the past [and show her history] from the present.

Question: Were you able to distinguish any of the main influences on her life? Her parents were no doubt dead already, but what did you think were the really important factors that made her the strong personality type that she was?

Director Tae: I think that there were a lot of influences that made her who she was. She spent her childhood in Korea when it was a Japanese colony, and it was a really hard time. She couldn’t live with her parents when she was young, and she also had the experience that she was almost dragged away to be one of the ‘comfort women’ for the Japanese army. But luckily she escaped and she had to live in the mountains for about a month by herself. It was a time of hardship for all Koreans, so she had to live all the tragedy of modern Korean history by herself. So I think that’s part of the reason that made her as strong as she was. There was also the big influence from religion. She was a Christian and she always believed from a very young age about love for humanity, and to love and take care of your neighbours, and she also taught that to her son Jeon Tae-il. There were part of her principles from a very young age even after she lost her son in that tragic event. That was part of the influence that made her strong, I think. It’s not just about religion, but also her basic nature, to take care of her neighbours, people who share the world with her, people who suffer more than her, and she wanted to take care of these people. And she taught her son like that too. Also you can see in the film, when she was telling the story of her childhood she was saying [to bullies] “Beat me if you can.” She was that brave, and always against unreasonable power, and she always stood for justice. She did resist as much as she could, and they all influenced her into being strong.

Question: Can you tell us a bit about your history? You said you worked for one of the first documentary companies. How was your work used? Was it used to help the democracy movement, or did the government try and use it to strengthen their position? How did your history influence this documentary?

Director Tae: At that time I started working at Labor News Production I didn’t really think – not just me, but all of us – we didn’t really think we were documentary film makers. We started it as a labor movement, that we were taking part in the movement at the time. So we thought of ourselves as activists. So that was the start. I thought of myself as an activist taking part in the movement for 6 years, and I worked there as a documentary maker for that time. That’s quite different from thinking of yourself just as a documentary film maker. It was always about the real scenes of struggle, and I learned about making a documentary and the reasons why we need this fight for certain issues. And I also go to know Lee So-seon. So all these experiences led me to this film, I think, after all these years. Also I learned several techniques to actually be able to make a film, which became sometimes a survival technique. Making films is a difficult job sometimes. All those years at the Labor News Production became the influence for this film.

The tributes for Lee So-seon following her death included marches

The tributes for Lee So-seon following her death were incredible

Question: I really enjoyed the film. What is the importance of this film, and these types of films and history, for young people in Korea? And are they aware of these things in public schools, or just in history books?

Director Tae: I don’t think we have any public education or records for students in elementary, middle and high school, or even in university that teaches about Lee So-seon. But there are several books in the public education process that tell about her son, Jeon Tae-il. He is known to a certain extent, and there are also documentaries about him, and also a fiction film about him. So I’d say her son is well-known, but the mother not as much. There have been many efforts made to let Jeon Tae-il and his work more widely known to the public, but I think it’s never enough. There are still many ongoing efforts. The reason that this is important is that there are still many struggles over human rights, especially for workers, laborers. Lee So-seon was a person who spoke throughout her life about human rights and solidarity and the struggles we have to go through to achieve it. That’s why I thought her story was inspiring. There is still not enough consideration about the human rights of workers. It’s not really reflected in the process of public education. I think we need more records and films that can tell the younger generation about the importance of human rights. That’s why more and more films are coming out of the independent film scene which deal with these kinds of issues. It’s still never enough, and we are living in a country where a dictator’s daughter is president, so as you can guess it’s more difficult and more tricky to make these kinds of films now, but there are still efforts by independent film makers.

Question: I was really touched by the film, I thought it was better than other dramas and soap operas. I thought from the poster it was a film about an old woman, but I realised it was about the ‘Mother of Workers’ and it was really interesting. You put a lot of focus on her ordinary life and behaviour. I’d like to know why you choose those kind of tactics to portray her.

Director Tae: Well I think in Korea, people think of the labor movement as too serious sometimes and too violent. A lot of people think of the labor movement with those kinds of stereotypes. I think that’s the basic background I had when I started this film. As you can see in the film, the director of the play from Taiwan, he says, “It’s always about big action, or red ribbons and violent actions and demonstrations.” So people connect the image of throwing stones and Molotov cocktails at police when they think of the labor movement. They think of the images first, and it’s the big preconception about the labor movement here in Korea. Why it’s like that is another question. But Lee So-seon also thought it would be better if we can change that preconception and those images of the labor movement with this film, and I was trying to say that I don’t think these people are more violent or more organised or skillful in fighting. They are not those kinds of people. Fighting for your human rights is your basic right, that’s why they are fighting. It’s not because they are specifically violent people, that’s part of the report I wanted to make. Rights to work and for survival are your basic human rights. That should be natural. Lee So-seon was a person that symbolised that kind of idea. As long as you are human, you need to fight for your rights when they are threatened. I thought because she’s a person like that, I thought it’d be more effective to show her charm in everyday life, to show trivial things, to reveal her strong message. I tried to use those things to approach those ideas in her life, and to show you that. I also tried to depict the events backwards in the timeline, from the small to the big ideas, that’s why I didn’t want to put specific focus on the promise [to her dying son], or talk too much about it. I didn’t want too much melodrama out of it. I tried to leave Jeon Tae-il out of it as much as possible, although it’s impossible to leave him totally out of the film. I tried to show her as ordinary as possible, just as we are and her that her fight is not something too noble or too difficult, but a fight that has to be done for human beings. I wanted to show her life.

Lee So-seon continually displayed her strength of character

Question: You mentioned Park Geun-hye earlier. Now that she’s in power, do you think making these kinds of documentaries will become more difficult? She quite famous for being sensitive about anything bad said about her or her father, so how will you go about making future documentaries? Will you change anything?

Director Tae: Well I don’t think I will change anything under the regime of Park Geun-hye, as we already survived the Lee Myung-bak era. It will be difficult, but we already know about the difficulties so I don’t think I’ll change anything. At least, when it’s concerned about making films. I hope and believe that as we’ve achieved a democracy it wouldn’t go back as far as the old days when we had a fascistic dictatorship. Of course I can guess that there will be certain kinds of pressures on people who are making these kinds of films, and who are not afraid of getting their voices heard. So there will be that kind of suppression. But I don’t think people who are making those kinds of films are too afraid, whatever may come. The more difficult thing is everyday survival. We have achieved a democracy in terms of politics, but not as much in cultural aspects. There is still less and less support for public art, like making documentaries or independent films, so I think there is not enough support for independent artists these days. I think I’ll spend these 5 years under Park Geun-hye to try and make things better for independent artists.

Thank you to director Tae Jun-seek for generously answering the questions, and to producer Hwang Hye-rim and manager Kwon Mi-hui for translating and hosting the event.

Directors Interviews/Q&As

Padak attempts to flee the sushi restaurant

January 29, 2013January 31, 2015

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PADAK (파닥파닥) – ★★☆☆☆

PADAK (파닥파닥)

Animated films have made several attempts to capture the world that exists in the ocean. Pixar’s Finding Nemo undoubtedly leads the pack, yet Help! I’m a Fish, Shark Tale and A Turtle’s Tale: Sammy’s Adventures all work hard to convey the vibrancy of life under the waves. Coupled with the great variety of species that dwell there, the animations offer some fascinating visual storytelling.

Given the bright and cheerful poster of PADAK (파닥파닥), parents could easily be forgiven for thinking that this feature by writer/director Lee Dae-hee (이대희) is of a similar ilk. Yet their children would be horrified to discover a dark story featuring cannibalism, torture, and characters being eaten alive. Such violence cannot help but overshadow the themes of freedom and identity that run throughout the narrative, while the crude animation does little to help matters.

Captured at sea, a mackerel (Kim Hyeon-ji (김현지) is taken to a sushi restaurant and placed in a tank ready for customers. There she encounters other species of fish trapped in the same predicament, yet as they are from a fish farm they can’t understand the mackerel’s desperate desire to return to the ocean. Her constant attempts to escape earn her the nickname ‘Padak’ due to the swishing of her fins, while the other fish teach her methods to survive. But before long Padak’s knowledge and persistence comes into conflict with Master Flatfish (Si Yeong-joon (시영준) an old halibut that holds an iron-fisted regime over the tank.

Padak attempts to flee the sushi restaurant

PADAK begins ominously during a depressingly overcast morning, where the fisherman haul their wares into large lorries ready for the local restaurants. The atmosphere generated by such scenes is bleak and foreboding, and director Lee Dae-hee does a great job in emphasizing the melancholy through the colour palette. Combined with utilizing Padak’s point-of-view, the confusion and stress that she endures is conveyed well.

Yet these early scenes immediately highlight one of the great animation problems of the film, as the people are so stiff and rigid it is distracting. The animation style is reminiscent of the old Sony Playstation/Sega Dreamcast era, where ‘cell-shading’ was employed to convey the 3-D features whilst also masking the limitations of the technology. This is perhaps an unfair criticism given that Padak is an independent film, but whenever a human appears it immediately draws the audience out of the story. However, when the story centers on the fish at the heart of the film the animation becomes much more bearable, and it is clear that a lot of time and energy went into their creation. Indeed, the details on the fish ‘skins’ are quite impressive, especially following conflict.

Such violence is an enormous issue within the film, and is often quite horrific. Characters that are the focus of the film are cruelly beaten, while others are shown being decapitated or boiled alive by the sushi chef, and even eaten alive by customers while the face of the fish is still moving and breathing. If the intention of director Lee Dae-hee is too scare people away from sushi restaurants, such sequences must be considered a success. The true horror however is reserved for the scenes depicting cannibalism, as the fish kill injured newbies and devour it in a mess of flesh and dissipating blood.

The fish resort to cannibalism to survive

The terror such scenes convey also detract from the core themes of the film, which are concerned with freedom and identity. Old Master Flatfish has created a dictatorship inside the tank, forged through fear of death as well as the lack of education his subordinates exhibit. Padak, with her knowledge of the ocean and dreams of liberty, challenges the regime forcing a conflict between them. The debate between democracy and fascism is nothing new, yet the manner in which it is explored in the tank offers somewhat of a fresh approach to the concept. Yet as Padak slowly starts to win over the other fish with her desire to return to the sea, it is impossible not to reminisce about similar scenes from Finding Nemo which dealt with the same issues but in a more enjoyable – and less bloodthirsty – fashion.

Musical numbers are a surprising addition to Padak, and as they appear in the form of dream sequences director Lee uses the opportunity to experiment with alternatives forms of animation. The songs are not particularly uplifting or catchy, but the different animated styles are interesting and are used effectively as bridges between the dialogue in the tank and the hopes and dreams of the fish involved.

The sushi restaurant is a place of genuine horror

Verdict:

PADAK is a novel attempt at capturing the lives of fish, one that explores the predicament of living in fear of death due to containment in a sushi restaurant tank. Writer/director Lee Dae-hee competently conveys the issues of freedom and identity at the heart of the narrative, but they are subsumed by the awful violence and cannibalism that arises. While the animation of the fish is enjoyable the film staggers greatly when conceiving humans. As such PADAK an incredibly mixed, and rather dark, animation.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews

Yeong-gyoo and his team prepare for trafficking organs

January 28, 2013January 31, 2015

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The Traffickers (공모자들) – ★★★☆☆

The Traffickers (공모자들)

Exploring the black market organ trade between Korea and China, The Traffickers (공모자들) is the directorial debut from writer/director Kim Hong-seon (김홍선). The film, which is loosely based on the true story of Korean newlyweds who became embroiled in human organ trafficking, also earned director Kim the ‘Best New Director’ award at the 2012 Blue Dragon Film Awards.

The Traffickers is indeed a thrilling film, one that captures the horrifying reality of the trade and depths organ traffickers will go to in order to secure their product. The tension generated from such scenes is palpable, whilst the horror of those effected by trafficking is gut-wrenchingly poignant. Yet bizarrely, director Kim attempts to align the audience with the traffickers themselves, forcing them to care whether the mission is a success despite the criminals’ sinister machinations. The result is a thrilling yet odd story, and one that deserves credit for examining the very nature of such controversial subject matter.

Following a failed attempt at securing organs that cost the life of his best friend, trafficker Yeong-gyoo (Im Chang-jeong (임창정) and his team quit the business and become simple smugglers instead. Yet the meager sums generated from smuggling make it difficult to rise out of squalor and pay debts, and the team are in need of a big score. Simultaneously, Yu-ri (Jo Yoon-hee (조윤희), the woman of Yeong-gyoo’s affections, has a sick father in need of a transplant and visits black market dealers to secure an organ. For her sake, and for the team, Yeong-gyoo secretly agrees to perform one last job with the help of righthand man Joon-sik (Jo Dal-hwan (조달환) and alcoholic surgeon Kyeong-jae (Oh Dal-su (오달수). As everyone gathers on the boat to China, businessman Sang-ho (Choi Daniel (최 다니엘) and his disabled wife Chae-hee (Jeong Ji-yoon (정지윤) board the same vessel only to find themselves the targets of the traffickers.

Yeong-gyoo and his team prepare for trafficking organs

The opening sequence of The Traffickers is the stuff of nightmares as a man, naked and wounded, stumbles through the hallways of a boat smearing his blood on the walls. Writer/director Kim Hong-seon captures the horror of the situation with skill and conveys a disturbingly compelling introduction into the world of the traffickers. Indeed, the director displays a keen eye for tension and violence throughout the film and is a seemingly perfect fit for the genre, building suspense-filled sequences until a release of blood soaked terror. The scenes in which Yeong-gyoo’s team abduct disabled Chae-hee and prepare to harvest her organs are horrifying yet engrossing, whilst the tension generated by her husbands frantic search of the claustrophobic and labyrinthian hallways of the boat is genuinely disconcerting. Similarly, the abuse Chae-hee suffers contains chilling realism as the traffickers take advantage of her predicament by abusing and cutting her, all voyeuristically captured on camera for their clients.

It is therefore quite odd that Yeong-gyoo and the traffickers are given such central, vital roles within the narrative. Korean cinema is no stranger to the concept of the anti-hero, with films such as The Chaser and The Thieves performing incredibly well, but The Traffickers really takes the notion to the next level. Criminals executing a high-stakes heist is one thing, but human organ traffickers that sexually abuse a drugged disabled woman is quite another. The perversity and violence that pervades whenever the traffickers are around is quite shocking, yet more is so that the audience are intended to root for them to succeed. In fact, all of the criminals have zero redeeming features with which to forge empathy, something director Kim seems to realise in the final act as a hasty back story is given to Yeong-gyoo through flashback scenes. This is particularly problematic as while the team appear to be winning, it just feels wrong.

After abducting disabled Chae-hee, the team get to work

With the exception of leader Yeong-gyoo, the characters themselves are generally stereotypes including the effeminate sleazy boss, the mentally challenged trafficker, and the drunken surgeon. Despite this the dialogue is well written and competently acted by all involved, and the world in which they inhabit and the stakes they face are conveyed with the appropriate danger. As the most developed protagonist, Yeong-gyoo is actually quite a complex, and disturbed, figure within the film. Wonderfully acted by Im Chang-jeong, Yeong-gyoo is a particularly nasty piece of work due to his penchant for violence and swearing, as well as the abuse he delivers to the middle aged women who smuggle goods for him. As he is quite unlikeable, director Kim attempts to provide Yeong-gyoo with a ray of hope in the form of love interest Yu-ri, but as she wants absolutely nothing to do with him, he appears to be something of a stalker. Yeong-gyoo’s motivations are therefore unclear. Does he intend to give money to Yu-ri for her father’s operation? Does he intend to give Chae-hee’s organs to Yu-ri? He is incredibly mysterious, but the fact that Yu-ri doesn’t even like him gives rise to the question why he bothers at all.

Director Kim appears to be aware of these issues however, and attempts to address them all for the finale. It’s too little too late of course, but by giving Yeong-gyoo a moral impetus and back story he finally becomes a figure audiences can root for, and hope to succeed. The action and suspense during the final act is frantic and exhilarating as the chase sequences and fighting scenes are tense and brutal as cars are smashed and eyes gouged. The Chinese hospital in particular stands out as a source of abject horror, as the camera moves past rooms filled with organ-less corpses. While the race against time is highly enjoyable, it is ultimately undermined by the silly coincidences and plot absurdities that transpire to transform Yeong-gyoo into the hero, which is a shame considering the action is so engaging.

Yeong-goo must race against time to salvage the operation

Yeong-gyoo must race against time to salvage the operation

Verdict:

The Traffickers is a thrilling and violent film about the black market organ trade that exists between Korea and China. Director Kim Hong-seon captures the tension and action with skill in his debut feature, and the abject horror that arises throughout the film is palpable. Yet the film is hugely problematic as the central protagonists are the exploitative, perverse traffickers who sport zero redeeming features, but the audience are expected to will them to succeed. Combined with some quite absurd narrative occurrences in the final act, The Traffickers is an engaging albeit paradoxical thriller.

★★★☆☆