Han-gi forced himself upon Sun-hwa, despite her boyfriend's objections

Bad Guy (나쁜 남자) – ★★★☆☆

Bad Guy (나쁜 남자)

Bad Guy (나쁜 남자)

Within intense drama Bad Guy (나쁜 남자), celebrated-yet-reviled auteur Kim Ki-duk (김기덕) continues to explore the themes that simultaneously make him such a fascinating and disturbing filmmaker. For this installment the director dissects the class divide, misogyny and his own unique brand of ‘Han’ by shining a spotlight on the inhabitants of a red light district within Seoul, and the relative ease in which people find themselves employed there.

As is often the case with the auteur, Bad Guy controversially blurs and straddles the lines of morality in locating love within bleak environments, again employing a mute protagonist in emphasising the importance, or ‘truth’, of action over words. The result is an interesting exploration of an oft-ignored area in society, one that – due to the voyeuristic perversity within – will certainly not win over feminists, and is not for the faint hearted.

While walking the streets of Seoul one day, mute pimp Han-gi (Jo Jae-hyeon (조재현) comes across the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, art student Sun-hwa (Seo-won (서원). Despite the presence of Sun-hwa’s boyfriend, Han-gi forces himself upon her for a kiss, shocking the local public and resulting in a beating from a group of soldiers passing by. Disgraced and humiliated, Han-gi seeks revenge and entraps Sun-hwa into taking out an unsecured loan. When she fails to fulfill the extensive payments, Sun-hwa finds herself working in a red-light district using her body to pay the debt, all the while watched by Han-gi.

Han-gi forced himself upon Sun-hwa, despite her boyfriend's objections

Han-gi forces himself upon Sun-hwa, despite her boyfriend’s objections

Bad Guy is arguably Kim Ki-duk’s most extensive exploration of class within Korean culture, as criminal Han-gi, who occupies the dark underworld of society, is seemingly at odds with the middle class veneer inhabited by Sun-hwa. Yet the director routinely alludes to the similarities between the two central protagonists, with the severity of crime the marked difference. Han-gi may well be a violent pimp, but Sun-hwa also rips pages from books in stores rather than paying, and also steals money from a wallet rather than hand it to the relevant authorities. As Sun-hwa’s crimes are generally more acceptable, as well as conveying purity and innocence as a virginal university student, Han-gi simultaneously desires and reviles her believing himself unworthy of such a woman. His conflicting psychology ultimately leads to the most controversial aspect of the film – Han-gi voyeuristically watching through a two-way mirror as Sun-hwa, reluctant to commit to life as a prostitute, is routinely raped by clients. The way in which Kim Ki-duk frames such sequences are interesting as in order to view the atrocities Han-gi must part a curtain much in the same way as a cinema screen before the start of a film, and as such the director implicates the audience as sharing the same voyeuristic, perverse, sexual desires and feelings of inadequacy as Han-gi, much in the same way as Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960) and Alred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960). However despite the technical and narrative achievements, there is also no escaping the notion of the male rape fantasy at play as with Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible (2002), as a young beautiful middle class woman is repeatedly violated until she accepts her position as a sexual slave.

Sun-hwa finds herself working in a red-light district, alone and abused

Sun-hwa finds herself working in a red-light district, alone and abused

Despite the ways in which Kim Ki-duk attempts to symbolically unify Han-gi and Sun-hwa – through photographs of a couple with faces removed and displays of protection and obsession and so forth – it is still requires a leap of believability to accept the co-dependency and love that rather rapidly appears between them. Such an event will certainly not please feminists particularly as their relationship as prostitute and pimp continues even after true emotions have been declared enforcing archaic patriarchal ideology. Yet Han-gi’s refusal to touch her as he believes he is not worthy is quite endearing, although quite why he would continue to employ his love as a sexual slave is also baffling.

Jo Jae-hyeon performs the role of mute pimp Han-gi incredibly well and is highly convincing as the brute thug. His inability to speak symbolised through an horrific scar across his throat forces the actor to convey his emotions physically, and he not only succeeds but is compelling as well making such a vile ‘bad guy’ a sympathetic, albeit appalling, character.

As student-turned prostitute Sun-hwa, Seo-won is captivating. Despite the title, Bad Guy is her story and the actress is excellent in conveying the spoilt bourgeois traits of the character that gradually evolve into a lack of self-worth and co-dependency. Seo-won’s performance during the horrific rape scenes are powerful and disturbing, building incredible empathy with the character so that tragedy is keenly felt when she begins to embrace her new career.

Han-gi and Sun-hwa develop a bizarre co-dependency

Han-gi and Sun-hwa develop a bizarre co-dependency

Verdict:

As is to be expected with auteur Kim Ki-duk, Bad Guy contains an explosive and controversial mix of social, gendered and sexual relationships. His artistic merits are not as pronounced as with his other work such as The Isle or Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter…and Spring, yet the challenging narrative is as interesting as ever and explores the issues of the red-light district well, especially the ease in which people can find themselves working in the sex trade. The misogynistic content will not win over feminists or critics of his work, yet Bad Guy remains a simultaneously fascinating and appalling viewing experience.

★★★☆☆

Reviews
Kpop star Ga-yeong meets unemployed Jeong-hwan

Romantic Island (로맨틱 아일랜드) – ★★☆☆☆

Romantic Island (로맨틱 아일랜드)

Romantic Island (로맨틱 아일랜드)

The notion of changing the mundane routines of every day life for the sun and sand of a tropical paradise is hardly original in cinematic terms, yet the concept never lacks potency for their depictions of paradise and perhaps – just perhaps – a romantic encounter. From kitchen-sink dramas such as Shirley Valentine (1989), macho debauchery in The Hangover II (2011) to life-affirming family drama The Descendants (2011), the crystal clear waters gently lapping the shore hold a romanticism hard to ignore.

In Romantic Island (로맨틱 아일랜드), the concept is extended into a multi-strand narrative akin to Love Actually (2003) whereby six Koreans, eager to escape their problems and drab lifestyle, pack their bags and jet off to Boracay in The Philippines. The result is an occasionally charming yet odd mixture of underdeveloped characters and stories that never quite gel or convince, with Boracay itself the highlight in an otherwise low-budget affair.

During winter in Seoul, a handful of citizens are enduring hardships difficult to contend with. Stock market worker Kang Jae-hyeok (Lee Seon-gyoon (이선균) who is not only in danger of losing his job, but has just lost his father; Choi Soo-jin (Lee Soo-kyeong (이수경) who dislikes her job, is fed up with being selfless, and desires to travel; Lee Jeong-hwan (Lee Min-ki (이민기) is unemployed and newly single; Yoo Ga-yeong (Yoo Jin (유진) is an over-worked K-pop idol with low self-esteem; and couple Lee Yeon-sook (Lee Il-hwa (이일화) and Park Joong-sik (Lee Moon-sik (이문식), who have lived a comfortable existence until Joong-sik was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor. Escaping to Boracay either to resolve or flee their problems, all six learn the value of having someone special in life.

Jae-hyeok forms a relationship with Soo-jin

Jae-hyeok forms a relationship with Soo-jin

While the exotic locations within Romantic Island are a visual treat, there is unfortunately no escaping the fact that the romantic comedy is a rather dull and contrived film. To be fair, the tongue-in-cheek and knowingly cliched nature of the narrative means Romantic Island never intends to aim higher than crowd-pleasing entertainment, yet the film features an array of shortcomings that detract from its enjoyability. Chief among the criticisms is the unbalanced time allocated to each couple. Jae-hyuk and Soo-jin are primarily focused on in terms of character development, while Ga-yeong and Jeong-hwan are generally limited to an attractive couple enjoying themselves in montages. The final couple, Yeon-sook and Joong-sik, are virtually left on the sidelines for the duration and utilised to usher in the more silly gangster elements within the film. The inclusion of criminality with Romantic Island is intentionally daft but also quite bizarre, featuring camp swindling Koreans and Filipino child assassins. This would be fine except for the fact that their addition is distracting contrived, and, most importantly, that they are simply not funny.

Aside from a few scenes, comedy is sadly lacking throughout the film. The dramatic threads that attempt to take its place are interesting and have potential, yet are never developed into something for audiences to highly empathize with. Jae-hyeok visits The Philippines as his father, who abandoned his son and re-married in the country, has died. Soo-jin is sick of her job and selflessly providing for her family, providing impetus for travel. While the duo attempt to help each other address their problems, the issues are not developed enough to be compelling nor the resolutions enough to be convincing. Similarly Kpop idol Ga-yeong and unemployed Jeong-hwan have little purpose other than to portray an attractive young couple. The most compelling narrative thread belongs to Joong-sik who, diagnosed with a brain tumour, wishes to die and leave the life insurance money for his family leading to darkly comic and tragically romantic scenes. However as he and his wife are sidelined, their story receives little attention.

Kpop star Ga-yeong meets unemployed Jeong-hwan

Kpop star Ga-yeong meets unemployed Jeong-hwan

Director Kang Cheol-woo (강철우) competently creates Lee Jeong-sub’s (이정섭) script although the low production values are unfortunately quite clear, particularly when editing between the gorgeous beaches of Boracay and the studio-built interiors. As such Romantic Island feels like a TV movie, although the beautiful locations are impossible to dislike and are distracting enough to largely overlook such shortcomings.

The acting by all involved is ably performed, although to be fair none of the actors are stretched into new territory due to the relative lack of dramatic scenes. Despite this the character of each protagonist is competently conveyed as the stereotypes they are intended to be – the obstinate businessman, the peppy family girl, the cute relaxed bum, the spoilt princess, and so forth – and are enjoyable albeit predictable.

Couple Yeon-sook and Joong-sik strengthen their relationship in Boracay

Couple Yeon-sook and Joong-sik strengthen their relationship in Boracay

Verdict:

It is impossible not to won over by the beautiful Boracay beaches in Romantic Island, and the premise of disenchanted citizens seeking escapist pastures is as sound as ever. Yet the unbalanced time allocations for each couple, the contrivances within the narrative and the general absence of comedy ultimately detract from the entertainment value. Despite this Romantic Island is a ‘feel-good’ film that will undoubtedly please the tourist board of The Philippines.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews
Eun-hwan teaches Jae-kyung the value of a relationship

A Millionaire’s First Love (백만장자의 첫사랑) – ★★☆☆☆

A Millionaire's First Love (백만장자의 첫사랑)

A Millionaire’s First Love (백만장자의 첫사랑)

The life of spoiled rich brats undergoing a momentous personality shift is seemingly inherent to portrayals of American teenagers; their affluence, power and arrogance a by-product of rich-yet-absentee parents. As convention dictates, the teen learns and embraces the emotional connections with others, unselfishly wielding their wealth for the betterment of others.

As Korea has so rapidly grown and developed, such narrative traits have not only permeated but are often fundamental in representing the social elite and their intense desire for ownership of luxury goods. A Millionaire’s First Love (백만장자의 첫사랑), while initially conforming to such generic features, veers away into a touching tale of romance which is quite endearing and will be beloved by teenagers, despite the absence of character and narrative development.

On his 18th birthday, rich, rebellious and arrogant Kang Jae-kyung (Hyeon-bin (현빈) is set to inherit his late grandfather’s vast empire making him unbelievably wealthy. Yet his lifestyle of driving sports cars, gang fights and clubs have led to a clause in the transfer of assets; Jae-kyung must attend, and graduate, a high school deep in the countryside. With little alternative, Jae-kyung visits the school and meets new classmates, including studious Choi Eun-whan (Lee Yeon-hee (이연희). As Jae-kyung attempts to cause as much disruption as possible, his growing relationship with Eun-whan teaches him the merits of things money cannot buy.

Jae-kyung's rich and wild lifestyle is out of control

Jae-kyung’s rich and wild lifestyle is out of control

A Millionaire’s First Love begins in a rather generic fashion, with director Kim Tae-gyoon (김태균) portraying the affluent and rebellious lifestyle of Jae-kyung with sports cars, clubs and women. Such scenes are cutely-comical however it is nigh-on impossible to accept actor Won-bin, who was 24 at the time, as an 18 year old socialite. The actor, as well as the co-stars, are physically and stylishly much more mature than the ages they are attempting to portray, which cannot help but detract from the enjoyment of the film. When the actors appear in school uniform it is laughable and unconvincing, although such scenes are generally kept to a minimum. Unfortunately as this the premise of the film it ultimately conveys a sense of silliness to the proceedings.

Where A Millionaire’s First Love wonderfully succeeds is when the premise is jettisoned in favour of the romance between Jae-kyung and Eun-hwan. Korean cinema’s tendancy to flit between genres at whim is in full effect in A Millionaire’s First Love and the film benefits enormously because of it. Again, what draws the couple together initially is rather trite and silly yet once this is overcome the romance is deeply compelling and poignant. Due to health problems Eun-hwa moves into Jae-kyung’s country home, within which screenwriter Kim Eun-sook (김은숙) crafts some incredibly romantic scenes as the two share moments both funny – painting nails – and deeply moving – an early birthday – to convincing effect. Due to their co-habitation their real ages become less of a hinderance and much more fitting to the situation, as the depth of the love and sentiment conveyed implies a mature relationship and as such adds realism.

Eun-hwan teaches Jae-kyung the value of a relationship

Eun-hwan teaches Jae-kyung the value of a relationship

A Millionaire’s First Love is very much Jae-kyung’s story, and Won-bin performs the role ably. He has difficulty conveying the initial rebellious nature of the character, as even when swearing or fighting he is comical and clearly a man attempting to portray a boy. However, Won-bin excels during romantic and emotional sequences and never fails to convince that his love is genuine.

Despite her more supportive role, Lee Yeon-hee is excellent as Eun-hwa and steals the spot-light from her co-star with her acting ability. She is the only actor in the film that is convincing as a high school student with her appearance and diligent nature, and is by far the most compelling protagonist. When Eun-hwa begins to experience health problems, Lee Yeon-hee appears genuinely in pain and is convincing in the severity of her illness. As with her co-star, Lee Yeon-hee provides her best performances during emotional scenes and conveys incredible sincerity that is both poignant and moving.

The rest of the cast fair far less well and serve to be little more than irritations. While their roles are not developed more than several lines of dialogue between them, what is performed is hackneyed and over-acted particularly by the fellow students.

The couple bond and cherish every moment

The couple bond and cherish every moment

Verdict:

Despite opening with a rather contrived premise, A Millionaire’s First Love excels upon moving beyond teenage high school concerns and embracing the romance between the central couple. While the ages of the actors are an incredible distraction, such problems dissipate through the emotionally charged and moving scenes that occur as their love develops, and as such the film will undoubtedly please teenage audiences and romance fans to whom A Millionaire’s First Love is aimed.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews
The hostility between Yu-jeong and Yeon-su evolves into fondness

Maundy Thursday (AKA Our Happy Time (우리들의 행복한 시간) – ★★★★☆

Maundy Thursday (AKA Our Happy Time (우리들의 행복한 시간)

Maundy Thursday (AKA Our Happy Time (우리들의 행복한 시간)

Typically in the romance genre, the manner in which love begins is through trite happenstance – an accidental injury; a misunderstanding; a hot tub time machine. Not so in Maundy Thursday (AKA Our Happy Time (우리들의 행복한 시간), which buckles all conventions in the development of love. 

The romantic drama features a rebellious suicide survivor who, with regular visits to jail at the behest of her Catholic nun aunt, becomes enamored with a death row inmate. Far removed from traditional representations of romance, Maundy Thursday is a riveting cinematic delight, a highly character-driven film that exemplifies the importance of sharing sadness as well as happiness in the creation of love.

Moon Yu-jeong (Lee Na-young (이나영) is a suicide survivor, presenting a particular problem for her devoutly Catholic family and overbearing, selfish mother. Yu-jeong’s aunt, a Catholic nun, persuades her niece to join her on her weekly volunteer work at a prison, attempting to give hope and salvation to the prisoners. Reluctantly agreeing, Yu-jeong and her aunt meet rapist and murderer Jung Yeon-soo (Kang Dong-won (강동원). Initially incredibly hostile towards each other, the pair gradually reveal more about their tortured pasts, their hopes, their fears, and become irrevocably changed through the love that blossoms between them.

After her latest suicide attempt, Yu-jeong is sickened by the selfishness of her family

After her latest suicide attempt, Yu-jeong is sickened by the selfishness of her family

Maundy Thursday is a highly compelling and poignant romantic drama that embraces the darker and more tragic aspects of society in its depiction of love. Such a philosophy is ultimately what makes the film so unique and enthralling, as screenwriters Jang Min-seok (장민석) and Park Eun-yeong (박은영) never shy from exploring how character evolves through the unfair machinations of society, which director Song Hae-seong (송해성) wonderfully conveys. Working class Yeon-su has been abandoned by his mother and delved into a life of crime that has led to his incarceration; Yu-jeong is from a privileged upper-middle class background yet the overbearing Catholicism and rigid lifestyle has left her scarred. Technically two such protagonists should never become intertwined yet the narrative is so organic and flows so well that their meetings – which occur every Thursday – and the development of their relationship are natural and believable. Scenes in which the duo share their emotional pain, eloquently told through dialogue and flashbacks, are simultaneously heartbreaking and endearing revealing not only the suffering endured by people of all walks of life but how such turmoil can bring them together once shared. Acknowledging personal trauma, confronting it, and sharing it with someone special are the driving forces within Maundy Thursday, and the affection and love that blossoms from such pain are masterfully conveyed and deeply poignant.

A social group that does not express such qualities within Maundy Thursday are members of the Catholic faith. The film wonderfully explores how the concept of religion can be taken and abused by a practicing individual with horrifying results. With the exception of the kind Catholic priests and nuns within the prison, Catholicism is represented through Yu-jeong’s family, primarily her abhorrent mother. Director Song Hae-seong (송해성) masterfully portrays the eccentric and arrogant nature of the Catholic family, with expensive ornaments adorning the rigidly structured family home, the repressed clothing style of turtle-necks and high collars, and the snobbery and ignorance in spite of family trauma. The decor within the family home are an amalgamation of reds, oranges and yellows conveying the genuine ‘hell’ that exists there, while the pale-faced black-clothed mother, who is equal parts scary and manipulative, functions as the devil. Yet only Yu-jeong perceives the hypocrisy of her family, chastised for stating truths to people more concerned with rhetoric and status. Yu-jeong’s loneliness and rebellious nature are emphasized to such a degree that it is impossible not to empathize with the character, making her relationship with inmate Yeon-su all the more touching.

The hosility between Yu-jeong and Yeon-su evolves into fondness

The hostility between Yu-jeong and Yeon-su evolves into fondness

Lee Na-young is absolutely captivating in her performance as Yu-jeong. The actress masterfully conveys the tumultuous emotional well deep within the character, from her agitated moments of familial defiance and indifference to criticism through to more challenging maternal confrontations and expressions of past anguish. Lee Na-young’s performance is by far the most captivating, compelling and poignant aspect of Maundy Thursday and as such the film is ultimately her story.

Kang Dong-won takes more of a supportive role in his performance as Yeon-su, yet he also conveys a staggering emotional range. His ill-mannered behaviour and resolute desire to die are highly engaging, yet the occurrence of more dramatic scenes such as confronting the mother of his victim and his subsequent breakdown create incredible empathy with the killer. The fashion in which Yeon-su evolves from a man without hope to finding happiness is wonderfully portrayed by the highly skilled actor.

Despite himself, Yeon-su discovers happiness due to Yu-jeong

Despite himself, Yeon-su discovers happiness due to Yu-jeong

Verdict:

The focus on societal and religious discourses, and the love that can develop through sharing personal trauma, make Maundy Thursday a unique and incredibly compelling romantic drama. The performances by the central couple are wonderful and the manner in which they develop feelings of romance are organic and highly convincing. Maundy Thursday is an excellent portrayal of alternative romance, and a poignant reminder of the value of sharing pain and happiness within a relationship.

★★★★☆

Reviews
The love between Cheol-su and Su-jin grows stronger even after marriage

A Moment to Remember (내 머리 속의 지우개) – ★★★★☆

A Moment to Remember (내 머리 속의 지우개)

A Moment to Remember (내 머리 속의 지우개)

Simultaneously released in 2004, Lee Jae-han’s (이재한) A Moment to Remember (내 머리 속의 지우개) seemingly went head-to-head with Nick Cassavetes’ The Notebook in portraying a love plagued by the onset of dementia. Yet while Cassavetes’ non-linear effort primarily focused on the social inequality during 1940s America, Lee Jae-han’s film is more concerned with the devastating impact wrought by the onset Alzhemier’s disease on a young couple.

The result is one of the most emotional and compelling romantic films committed to celluloid, a poignant tale of love that never feels contrived and featuring incredible character studies in the form of the central leads. While the struggle of the later stages of the disease are kept to a minimum, A Moment to Remember is an emotional tour-de-force that would leave only the hardest of hearts unmoved.

Fashion designer Su-jin (Son Ye-jin (손예진) had intended to elope with her married boss Seo Yeong-min (Baek Jong-hak (백종학), yet at the crucial moment was abandoned at the train station. Heart-broken and humiliated, Su-jin returns to work where she is frequently the source of gossip and shunned by her peers. Despite her privileged upper-middle class lifestyle Su-jin is often clumsy and forgetful, even taking a drink from a stranger believing it to be her own. While visiting her architect father Su-jin meets poor ill-mannered carpenter and foreman Cheol-su (Jeong Woo-seong (정우성), and their mutual attraction develops into a loving relationship and later, despite opposition, to being married. As Su-jin and Cheol-su enjoy married life and support each other in ways neither knew existed, Su-jin’s memory gradually worsens and is diagnosed with a rare genetic case of Alzheimer’s disease. With her memories fading, Cheol-su and Su-jin battle the difficulties posed by the disease to remember their love.

An innocent mistake over a drink brings Su-jin and Cheol-su together

An innocent mistake over a drink brings Su-jin and Cheol-su together

Director and screenwriter Lee Jae-han does an excellent job in constructing an organic and believable romance between Su-jin and Cheol-su. So many films within the genre focus solely on the initial development of love, yet Lee Jae-han extends this further through presenting deeper emotional problems, and the attempts to heal them, in marriage. Such a philosophy is ultimately the reason why A Moment to Remember is so successful as the film never forgoes character study for the sake of contrived conventions, instead emphasizing the strengths and frailties of the central characters and the spiritual growth that occurs through their relationship. Scenes in which Su-jin’s pain from her prior affair heal, and Cheol-su’s confrontation with his mother who abandoned him, are wonderfully portrayed and convey a sincerity of love that is all too rare in representations of romance.

Lee Jae-han also deserves credit for the manner in which he tackles the portrayal of Alzheimer’s disease, which he deftly and efficiently amalgamates throughout the script. Certain scenes are incredibly nuanced, such as Su-jin fainting through stress and dropping the contents of her purse to reveal an inordinate amount of pens, while others are more overt portrayals as she loses her way home. The technical prowess during such sequences allows the audience to experience Su-jin’s confusion, providing POV shots that move in and out of focus on busy streets and rapid camera movement and editing that effectively convey her distress and terror. Following Su-jin’s official diagnosis, endearing visuals such as the labeling of items within the house emerge in conjunction with heart-breaking sequences of memory loss, making A Moment to Remember a highly profound and poignant viewing experience.

The love between Cheol-su and Su-jin grows stronger even after marriage

The love between Cheol-su and Su-jin grows stronger even after marriage

In performing such an intense form of love, Son Ye-jin as Su-jin gives is wonderful and the highlight of the film. Her subtle mannerisms convey a wealth of simultaneous emotions ranging from insecurity, strength, innocence and ambition seemingly with ease, and is an absolute delight. The actress excels during dramatic scenes as she breaks down through stress, while her blank, confused and scared expression acutely convey her suffering due to the onset of Alzheimer’s. Son Ye-jin is absolutely enthralling throughout A Moment to Remember and her utterly convincing performance forms the heart and soul of the film.

Jeong Woo-seong is also highly compelling as carpenter-turned-architect Cheol-su. His evolution of character is performed with grace and subtlety, initially brash, ill-mannered and aggressive yet through his relationship with Su-jin becoming attentive, responsible, and loving. As with Son Ye-jin, Jeong Woo-seong conveys a remarkable array of emotions within his performance varying from his hostility at a construction site, his untamed anger at his childhood, through to his adoration of Su-jin.

If there is a criticism to be made against A Moment to Remember, it is the absence of exploring the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease and the impact it presents within Chol-su and Su-jin’s relationship. While certain features of the disease are presented, the director clearly – and ironically – wants the memory of their love prior to Su-jin’s diagnosis to remain with audiences making the omission an understandable creative decision.

The rapid memory deterioration caused by Alzheimer's disease makes Su-jin confused

The rapid memory deterioration caused by Alzheimer’s disease makes Su-jin confused

Verdict:

A Moment to Remember is a wonderfully charming, poignant, and romantic film. Such potency is ultimately due to screenwriter/director Lee Jae-han’s dedication to characterization which is remarkable throughout, which Son Ye-jin and Jeong Woo-seong perform with integrity and sincerity. While more depth could have been applied to the later stages of the disease, the organic manner of the central relationship and the sensitivity in which their love is presented make A Moment to Remember an absolute must-see romantic film.

★★★★☆

Reviews
Han-gyoo briefly meets Ji-won during a botched counter-terrorist strike

Secret Reunion (의형제) – ★★★★☆

Secret Reunion (의형제)

Secret Reunion (의형제)

The representation of an unspoken bond between the people of North and South Korea has widely existed in contemporary Korean cinema, emphasising the lack of difference between the two and the futility of fighting on ideological grounds. Arguably originating in Kang Je-gyu‘s Shiri (1999), which introduced a softer stance on communism and featuring common ground and relationships, the film was followed by other high profile additions including JSA (2000) and Welcome to Dongmakol (2005), and even television dramas such as Iris (2009).

Director Jang Hoon’s (장훈) second feature, and his first since breaking away from mentor Kim Ki-duk, addresses the concept in a different manner. Secret Reunion (의형제) – also known as ‘Brothers’ and ‘Blood Brothers’ – rejects the oft-utilised theme of war in exploring the notion of Korean brotherhood and instead focuses on more domestic notions of family and kinship. The result is a highly compelling and engaging thriller featuring great direction and wonderful performances, making Secret Reunion one of the best examples of the concept in recent years.

Lee Han-gyoo (Song Kang-ho (송강호) is the team leader of a specialist task force within the National Intelligence Service (NIS). His mission is to capture or kill the North Korean terrorist known only as ‘Shadow’ (Jeon Gook-hwan (전국환), yet the extremist is incredibly elusive. Working on a tip-off, Han-gyoo prepares his team for Shadow’s next strike against a North Korean defector, refusing to call in back-up in a bid to receive credit. Yet unbeknownst to Han-gyoo, Shadow employs the help of young and talented protege Song Ji-won (Kang Dong-won (강동원) for the execution. As the NIS move in to capture Shadow the mission goes horribly awry resulting in the deaths of several officers, with Shadow and Ji-won escaping incarceration. Several years later Han-gyoo, dismissed from the NIS for his conduct, coincidently meets Ji-won at a mining plant. Considered a traitor by the North, Ji-won has also been deserted. In a bid to redeem themselves, the men form a business partnership in order to steal information from each other and regain their honour.

Han-gyoo briefly meets Ji-won during a botched counter-terrorist strike

Han-gyoo briefly meets Ji-won during a botched counter-terrorist strike

Secret Reunion was the second highest grossing film of 2010 and it’s clear to see why. The script by Jang Min-seok (장민석) is highly character driven, featuring both central protagonists as flawed human beings striving to better themselves and define their existences. The writer skillfully combines an array of genre motifs from espionage-orientated action to domestic comedy whilst never feeling contrived, and as such the relationship that develops between Han-gyoo and Ji-won is organic and engaging. Director Jang Hoon capitalises on such a solid foundation with highly impressive visual flair, combining fast-paced adrenaline-fueled camera movement during action sequences, wonderful cinematography, and a keen sense of comedy. Both the script and direction consistently represent Han-gyoo and Ji-won as men with similar ideals, with ideological differences that do arise more generational than cultural.

The character development and relationship between Ji-won and Han-gyoo is where Secret Reunion shines. Han-gyoo’s arrogant and ambitious traits as an NIS agent are similar to Ji-won’s single-minded determination in assassinating a defector; yet when both protagonists are stripped of their roles they find common ground through notions of family and compassion. Divorced Han-gyoo psychologically and financially copes with the departure of his family by locating and reunifying runaway foreign wives with their Korean husbands, despite the brutality with which they were treated. While such a narrative thread conveys Han-gyoo’s torment over losing his family, it also explores an increasing problem in Korean society as men from the countryside marry – often through brokers – Vietnamese, Thai, Filipino and women from other developing countries, often abusing them upon arrival. As such, Secret Reunion conveys that focusing on older concerns of North/South relations overshadows more pressing current social and humanitarian issues, also expressed through the old age of Northern terrorist Shadow in comparison to the young women forced to flee. Ji-won exemplifies such a stance as his communist ideology is portrayed not so much as archaic nationalistic fervour but as equal rights for all, coping with the loss of his family by respecting the women he tracks down as he would his own wife.

Ji-won and Han-gyoo accidently meet several years later

Ji-won and Han-gyoo accidently meet several years later

In their roles as Han-gyoo and Ji-won, actors Song Kang-ho and Kang Dong-won prove why they are among the top talent in the industry. Both perform their roles highly convincingly and are compelling throughout. The range of genres within Secret Reunion also allows the actors to stretch their performances in different territories, from the tense action sequences to their comedic living arrangements, from sharing personal history to violent confrontations. The chemistry between them is a joy to watch, with the generational difference between them also conveying a ‘passing-of-the-torch’ of sorts from one talent to the other.

If there is criticism to be bestowed upon the film, it would be that there are not enough scenes that heighten the tension between them and dramatic moments in which personal history is expressed. The co-habitation between Han-gyoo and Ji-won is wonderfully comedic and conveys their brotherly similarities, yet opportunities are missed in which tension and paranoia could be embellished, as well as subtle mannerisms or anecdotes conveying the character’s philosophy and experiences to unite them closer. As such their business and living arrangements are enjoyable yet lose the immediacy of scenes prior.

In order to steal secrets, Han-gyoo and Ji-won co-habit

In order to steal secrets, Han-gyoo and Ji-won co-habit

Verdict:

Secret Reunion is an engaging and compelling film about the unspoken kinship between people of North and South Korea. With the highly competent script by Jang Min-seok, wonderful cast and the visual flair of director Jang Hoon, the film features an array of genres including suspense-filled action and comedic domestic sequences, as well as providing interesting social discourses regarding the abuse suffered by foreign wives. While additional scenes expressing further depth to the relationship between Han-gyoo and Ji-won would have been welcomed, Secret Reunion is incredibly enjoyable and adds a unique perspective on the bond shared between the people of the divided peninsula.

★★★★☆

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Seong-beom races to save the day for a conventional stand-off

SIU – Special Investigations Unit (특수본) – ★★★☆☆

SIU - Special Investigations Unit (특수본)

SIU – Special Investigations Unit (특수본)

Andrew Lau and Alan Mak’s Infernal Affairs (2002) – later remade as Martin Scorcese’s The Departed (2006) – perfectly captured the thrilling paranoia of tracking down an elusive mole within an organisation. The suspension generated during the life-and-death scenarios is enthralling, with layers of mystery and character depth probing the morality of the actions of all involved.

SIU – Special Investigations Unit (특수본), while competent, has none of the above. In adhering to stereotypes and generic conventions the film is somewhat of a mediocre offering, featuring a solid-yet-cliched narrative with an interesting social message at its core – one which is unfortunately brushed aside by the testosterone-fueled antics within.

Cop Kim Seong-beom (Eom Tae-woong (엄태웅) leads a team of officers in protecting the streets of Seoul. The work is hard and the hours are long. When a fellow officer is found dead under suspicious circumstances, it sends a shockwave through the department and a special team is created to investigate. Joined by F.B.I trained Kim Ho-ryong (Joo Won (주원), the unlikely duo must team-up to discover the mystery surrounding the ongoing murders within the department, taking them from the lowliest drug dealers to members of government.

Seong-beom leads his team wih over-zealous testosterone-fueled actions

Seong-beom leads his team wih over-zealous testosterone-fueled actions

SIU – Special Investigations Unit starts well enough; officer Seong-beom is joined by Jeong Yeong-soon (Lee Tae-im (이태임) in apprehending a criminal, initially bungling the stake-out but catching the crook through comedic good fortune, while the following tonal-change of the murder of a cop sets up the premise well. Yet herein also lies the problem with SIU – Special Investigations Unit, as the police force and the officers within it are constantly portrayed as moronic petulant fools, undermining their task of finding the mole through acts of immature stupidity. While such features are important in the excellent Memories of Murder (2003) in highlighting the lack of education and support in a real-life case, SIU – Special Investigations Unit has no such mission. Instead, officers routinely make the case more difficult through infighting, committing human rights abuses, and withholding information in order to receive credit. Chief among the perpetrators is lead protagonist Seong-beum who is incredibly hostile, bullying, and arrogant and as such is extremely unlikeable. His dislike of young upstart Ho-ryung is understandable, but his actions are intolerable as he forces his protege into violent circumstances. Ho-ryung is much more likable, although his appearance which includes fitted suits, boy-band good-looks and a quiff that would make Elvis blush seem unnatural to the environments in which he is situated. Both protagonists fair better than singular female officer Yeong-soon who, aside from a close-up of her breasts, is rarely a presence both on-screen or within the narrative.

F.B.I trained Ho-ryong adds intelligence as well as incredible hair

F.B.I trained Ho-ryong adds intelligence as well as incredible hair

Where director Hwang Byeong-gook (황병국) succeeds however is in the creation of suspense. Action scenes in which criminals are pursued, car chases occur, and gunfights rage are competently filmed and quite thrilling, particularly a sequence which involves a forklift truck descending a parking lot ramp against the police. The narrative also includes sufficient red herrings for the audience for the audience to wonder who the mole is, although in truth the answer is rather predictable. The core social problem within SIU – Special Investigations Unit is highly compelling, as residents are forced into taking loans with interests so high they are impossible to repay with their businesses and land seized, a gritty urban take on themes within Chinatown (1974). Unfortunately such an interesting social discourse is so subsumed amongst the displays of masculinity and cliched conventions that it fails to make a substantial impact.

As Seong-beom, actor Eom Tae-woong performs the role well and is convincing as the overly-proud, feisty and immature detective. Although the character is something of an irritation, Eom Tae-woong conveys the physicality of the role with gusto while his facial expressions convey his emotional state, particularly his internal-conflict, with conviction. Joo Won (주원) as F.B.I trained criminal profiler Ho-ryong, is adequate by comparison as stoicism is continually conveyed even during more emotionally provocative scenes. However, the development of the relationship between them is compelling and organic, as mutual dislike evolves into allies then brothers.

Seong-beom races to save the day for a conventional stand-off

Seong-beom races to save the day for a conventional stand-off

Verdict:

A solid example of the cop thriller, SIU – Special Investigations Unit is nonetheless hampered by the strict adherence to generic conventions and contrived storytelling. While action sequences are well executed and sufficient red herrings are thrown into the mix, the representation of an incompetent police force and the lack of emphasis bestowed upon the social message means that SIU – Special Investigations Unit never rises above adequate.

★★★☆☆

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Teacher In-ho attempts to communicate through sign and art

Silenced (The Crucible) (도가니) – ★★★☆☆

Silenced (The Crucible) (도가니)

Silenced (The Crucible) (도가니)

It is incredibly rare for a film to have such potency that the national fervor generated changes law. Silenced (The Crucible) (도가니), based on the true story of the sexual abuses of hearing impaired children in 2000, sparked outrage upon release not only for the subject matter but also for the extremely lenient punishments dealt to the offenders, as well as the corruption seemingly inherent within the judiciary system.

While critics bemoaned the public furor as hypocrisy, due to the indifference displayed to the television programme and book produced years prior on the subject, politicians were keen to introduce legislation which was shockingly absent to protect children from sexual predators – and raise their own political profile in the process.

As such, Silenced is an incredibly powerful film conveying an array of social discourses. Helmed by highly competent director Hwang Dong-hyeok (황동혁), Silenced is a tense and gripping drama during the discovery of the abuses and impending trial, yet loses momentum in the inevitable court hearing.

Art teacher and sign language practitioner Kang In-ho (Gong Yoo (공유) endures several hardships in life. His wife has died; his daughter is very sick; and finding employment is extremely difficult. Through the recommendation of his professor, In-ho is accepted as a teacher at Inhwa school for the hearing impaired in Gwangju. Yet upon arrival in the foggy village, he is involved in a car accident with social worker Seo Yoo-jin (Jeong Yu-mi (정유미), exchanging insurance details. Settling in at the school, In-ho finds the behaviour of the students strange; they are quiet and nervous, often sporting bruises and cuts, and are reluctant to communicate. Worse still, he hears screams at night and witnesses the beatings and water torture used against the students. Learning of the sexual abuses In-ho casts aside his career and gathers the abused children, working together with Yoo-jin to launch a legal campaign against the injustice caused by the perpetrators – including the headmaster.

Teacher In-ho attempts to communicate through sign and art

Teacher In-ho attempts to communicate through sign and art

Due to the subject nature of the film, Silenced cannot help but be an incredibly emotive viewing experience. Director Hwang Dong-hyeok deserves credit for employing a variety of methods in conveying the horror of child abuse, from the cries of deaf children echoing in darkened corridors, long takes of appalling physical violence, to Kubrickian-esque shots of stairwells  that descend into horror. The use of sign language is also well utilised as the children are forced to reenact events rather than speak of them, adding a chilling dimension to the abuse. Hwang Dong-hyeok is keenly aware of the necessity to shock, and his decision to depict controversial scenes including a teacher washing young boys in a bath and the headmaster undressing himself and young girls against their will, add a level of repulsion that is difficult to describe. While certain critics have questioned the extent to which such scenes should exist, there is no denying the shocking reconstruction of events forces audiences from apathy and indifference. The suspense and tension are wonderfully created within the school, almost making the building a sinister character in itself.

Yet Silenced tends to stall outside of the environment, with the impending court case and the hearing itself competent but relatively low-key. This generally due to focusing on protagonists other than the children, and in doing so the narrative loses traction and immediacy. However such tangents do allow for additional social commentary, focusing on the corruption of virtually every professional involved in the case as a microcosm for the Korean justice system. Christians are also held accountable within the film for vehemently supporting the child abusers and bribing officials, as well as spitting at and intimidating those pressing charges. Silenced reasserts itself when focusing on the testimonies of the children, who bravely give evidence against the perpetrators despite the pressure against them. In doing so the film finds its emotional core, making the final decision bestowed by the presiding judge all the more heartfelt.

In-ho and social worker Yoo-jin document the abuse for television

In-ho and social worker Yoo-jin document the abuse for television

As the heart and soul of Silenced, child actors Kim Hyeon-soo (김현수), Jeong In-seo (정인서) and Baek Seung-hwan (백승환) as protagonists Kim Yeon-doo (김연두), Jin Yoo-ri (진유리) and Jeon Min-soo (전민수) respectively, are exceptional. Their performances are incredibly powerful and compelling, all three utterly convincing as victims of abuse desperate for justice and affection. Kim Hyeon-soo is wonderful as Yeon-doo, particularly during the court room scenes as she describes her abuse and outsmarts the adults in the room. Jeong In-seo is also compelling as Yoo-ri, the youngest victim, ably shifting between acute nervousness when describing the assaults and moments of sheer joy when shown affection. As the only male victim, Baek Seung-hwan is shockingly convincing as Min-soo, displaying an intensity in his performance that belies his age. Whether suffering various abuses, recapturing his childhood or breaking down through stress, Baek Seung-hwan conveys gripping poignacy and emotional distress.

The same cannot be applied to lead actor Gong Yoo as teacher In-ho. His performance is generally bland and stoic even in the face of horrific scenes of violence, more of a phantom than a troubled man confronted with child abuse. In fairness to the actor, the character is rather underdeveloped with select few scenes informing his history or relationships, resulting in a lack of empathy. The few occasions in which In-ho’s character is conveyed is usually through beratement by his mother, more of an annoyance than informative. Absence of development is also applicable to social worker Yoo-jin, played by Jeong Yu-mi. Initially quite unlikeable, Yoo-jin becomes much more compelling than her male counterpart due to the range of emotions conveyed through Jeong Yu-mi’s performance. As devices through which the abused children seek justice the central roles of In-ho and Yoo-jin require substantiality as they function as the conduits for the audience. Yet as it stands, they fall rather flat.

Yeon-do and the other children face grueling questions in court

Yeon-do and the other children face grueling questions in court

Verdict:

Silenced is an incredibly powerful film that expresses the horrors of child abuse and conveys the corruption of members of Korean society with skill. The resulting public outrage is wholly understandable as the stark brutality of the events are performed with exceptional child actors and the injustice against such innocence is impossible to remain detached from. While the film loses momentum and its emotional core when outside the school and away from the victims, Silenced  is a challenging film and – even if merely to have an opinion – required viewing.

★★★☆☆

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The cliches within Always (오직 그대만) are abundant yet entertaining

Always (오직 그대만) – ★★★☆☆

Always (오직 그대만)

Always (오직 그대만)

Always (오직 그대만) had the honour of opening the 2011 Busan Film Festival in the exclusive new cinema center. Directed by auteur  Song Il-gon (송일곤) and featuring heavyweight stars So Ji-sub (소지섭) and Han Hyo-joo (한효주), the event made an indelible statement of the ‘Koreaness’ of the festival.

While the choice may have had nationalistic sentiment, opening with Always was a surprising decision as the film is a showcase of mediocrity. The over-abundance of cliches may very well be intentional, but the lack of narrative depth and character development make Always a shamelessly commercial affair that while competent offers little originality.

Cheol-min (So Ji-sub) is a former Mixed Martial Artist champion who turned his back on the sport. Now scraping a living by delivering water and manning a parking lot booth, Cheol-min has emotionally severed ties with the rest of humanity. That is, until visually impaired Jeong-hwa (Han Hyo-joo) enters his booth to ‘watch’ a tv drama, under the impression that the former old employee was still in residence. Undeterred by the change, Jeong-hwa continues to ‘watch’ the drama with Cheol-min, becoming a regular rendezvous as he describes scenes for her enjoyment. As their relationship develops and Cheol-min’s icy exterior thaws, Jeong-hwa’s eyesight deteriorates further. Desperate for money to pay for an expensive operation for the woman who has restored his humanity, Cheol-min must come to terms with his past and enter the fighting arena once more.

Cheol-min regularly meets visually impaired Jeong-hwa to 'watch' tv dramas

Cheol-min regularly meets visually impaired Jeong-hwa to ‘watch’ tv dramas

Fans of the romance genre will undoubtedly be delighted with Always, as it conforms to all traditional conventions that categorize cinematic depictions of love and relationships. The film ticks all the boxes that are inherent to the genre – a couple meeting by chance; destiny intervening to push the couple together; a rugged, masculine male without emotion; a kind-hearted yet impaired beauty; lovers forced apart through unforeseen circumstances; climactically reuniting in a natural locale. Director Song Il-gon has incorporated every cliche at his disposal in creating a romantic love story.

However those very features are ultimately the film’s undoing as Always is very standard fare, never transcending or evolving traditional characters or narrative events to make the film unique or, at the very least, better than the myriad of similarly cliched romance films. Fans of auteur Song Il-gon have been quick to point out the intention of the abundance of cliches, producing an unabashedly commercial effort as his critically acclaimed filmography tends to be financially unsuccessful. If this rather cynical perspective has merit, then the director has succeed in his experiment as Always generated sales of over 1 million tickets and extended his fan base by targeting a slightly different demographic. Continuing such negative logic, perhaps the intention of the film is an indictment of audience’s sense of entertainment – predictable pleasures over artistic merit.

Regardless of supposed intentions, the cliches make for a satisfactory experience but by their very definition are overused and emphasise the contrived nature of the narrative. The romance between the leads – connoted as destined – requires several suspensions of disbelief. Otherwise, why a beautiful visually impaired woman would continue to enjoy a drama with a stranger in a parking lot booth is somewhat baffling. The regurgitation of cliches also exposes the film to inherent sexism as the rugged Cheol-min asserts his masculinity through removing Jeong-hwa’s independence. He provides money, takes care of his impaired lover, and performs DIY; she on the other-hand teaches him the value of emotions. In an incredibly bizarre and misogynistic scene in which Cheol-min rescues Jeong-hwa from rape by her manager, she chastises him for his involvement as she could lose her telemarketing job, forcing Cheol-min to become a care-taker and accept Jeong-hwa as his responsibility.

Cheol-min must accept his past and enter the ring once more

Cheol-min must accept his past and enter the ring once more

The combined star power of So Ji-sub and Han Hyo-joo certainly added to the expectation and commercial success of Always, and both perform competently in their roles. Due to the contrived nature of the narrative however, limitations are heavily imposed and often they are featured merely to appear attractive, or attractive-yet-sad.

So Ji-sub’s role is odd as retired Mixed Martial Artist Cheol-min, as the sport is only sporadically alluded to in the first two acts yet becomes of vital importance in the third. The profession notwithstanding, So Ji-sub is never fully convincing as a champion as the absence of focus and dedication, as well as his ill-matched musculature and prowess, combine to detrimental effect. Yet in conveying thawing stoic masculinity So Ji-sub excels, and is compelling as a former villain attempting to change his future through love.

Similarly, Han Hyo-joo is exemplary in such dramatic scenes conveying sincerity and romance in the majority of scenes. The sweet and positive nature of her character are constantly emphasized, making Jeong-hwa a highly likable protagonist. Where Han Hyo-joo stalls is in the performance of visual impairment. The year’s other big film concerning the disability, Blind, featured actress Kim Ha-neul conveying a competent performance through the daily struggles she endured and overcame; Han Hyo-joo is much weaker in this regard, seemingly traversing mountainous terrain with ease yet unable to unblock a drain situated next to her.

The cliches within Always (오직 그대만) are abundant yet timeless

The cliches within Always (오직 그대만) are abundant yet entertaining

Verdict:

As an addition to the romance genre, Always is an enjoyable and competent film that contains all the conventions inherent to the category. While fans of traditional romance may rejoice, the lack of cliche transcendence conveys the narrative and protagonists as highly contrived and unoriginal for audiences desiring a fresh interpretation. Intentional or otherwise, Always is, in its entirety, a entertaining cliche.

★★★☆☆

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Jenny becomes an idol, yet her identity is in crisis

200 Pounds Beauty (미녀는 괴로워) – ★★★☆☆

200 Pounds Beauty (미녀는 괴로워)

200 Pounds Beauty (미녀는 괴로워)

Cosmetic surgery is a booming industry worldwide, yet arguably more so in Korea where even middle and high school students return from vacation with bigger eyes and ‘western’ style noses. The obsession with appearance and rising number of surgeries, partly inspired by the influx of celebrities who have undertaken procedures, has alarmed various social groups for many years yet demand has always outstripped criticism by a large (profit) margin.

200 Pounds Beauty (미녀는 괴로워), or translated as ‘Being Beautiful is Agonizing’, is a romantic-comedy based on the huge social debate surrounding cosmetic surgery that attempts to explore opposing sides of the argument. It frequently succeeds and is often quite charming, yet it does so in a superficial capacity while the narrative is ultimately undermined as the film’s mixed message not only condones surgery – it encourages it.

Kang Han-na (Kim Ah-joong (김아중) is an incredibly obese and kind hearted woman, with a superb singing voice. Due to her appearance she sings popular K-pop songs for hit star Ammy (Seo Yoon (서윤) under the stage, while the untalented-yet-pretty performer mimes and dances. The injustice of it all does not escape Han-na yet she accepts that her voice bring s happiness to others through singing and also in her part-time job where she moonlights as a phone-sex worker. Her talent as a singer also brings her closer to her unrequited love, music producer Han Sang-joon (Joo Jin-mo (주진모) who has genuine affection for Han-na. However, upon secretly hearing of Sang-joon’s disgust at her appearance she resolves to have cosmetic surgery on her entire body and reemerge as a beautiful girl to win his heart once and for all.

Han-na's obese physique belies her talent as a gifted singer

Han-na’s obese physique belies her talent as a gifted singer

200 Pounds Beauty is competently directed by Kim Yong-hwa (김용화), who understands the nature of physical comedy well. The jokes created at the expense of Han-na’s weight, such as rebounding off of walls and falling through the floor, are contrasted with moments of innocence and naivety that strike a highly empathic chord with the character. The director also deserves credit for continuing such devices when Han-na transforms into Jenny, as Kim Yong-hwa refrains from fetishising her new body with the camera and instead consistently emphasizes the awkward physical comedy she perpetuates. In doing so Han-na/Jenny becomes even more sympathetic as her innocent identity is still intact. The source of comedy is also contrasted between Han-na and Jenny well, as Han-na’s obesity is often comical but the root of bullying while Jenny’s awkwardness is fun yet her beauty highlights the funny superficiality of others. When Han-na is invited to a birthday party she is mocked for wearing a tight gown; when Jenny is the cause of a car crash the men instantly forgive her due to her appearance. As such the social commentary within 200 Pounds Beauty is concerned with the superficial preconceptions that exist within culture and undermines them through conveying how hollow such concepts – and especially men and the entertainment industry – are.

Yet just as Arial in Disney’s The Little Mermaid (1989) changed her body and identity to find her prince, so too does Han-na in obtaining hers. Despite the existence of social critique within the narrative it is often rather shallow in the effort to be light-hearted entertainment. Jenny’s rejection of her father and best friend, her obese best friend’s suicide attempt, and even the surgical process itself are all present yet conveyed without the requisite detail that would portray Han-na’s journey as a poignant trajectory of self-discovery as well as a comedic one. Sang-joon’s attempt to touch Jenny in her surgically enhanced areas is also amusing, yet despite her own reference to herself as a product there are few scenes exploring how Jenny is used as ‘image’ by her love interest. Combined with the prosperous K-pop career and winning Sang-joon’s heart that Jenny receives in undergoing treatment, 200 Pounds Beauty ultimately conveys that cosmetic surgery is the way to a successful and love-filled life, wholly undermining prior scenes of Han-na’s torment by bullies and the superficiality of culture and the media.

Han-na - now Jenny - confronts Sang-joon and emerges with a singing career

Han-na – now Jenny – confronts Sang-joon and emerges with a singing career

For her performance as Han-na/Jenny, actress Kim Ah-joong won the Best Actress award at the 2007 Grand Bell Awards. Kim Ah-joong’s performance is good, emphasising the awkward physicality of her character with skill with a sense of comedic timing. However she is consistently on the verge of tears almost regardless of the scenario, functioning as an innocent and tearful ‘image’ of traditional femininity that further serves to encourage cosmetic surgery. Her acting is often childlike despite scenes which offer a chance at a more nuanced performance. Despite this Kim Ah-joong is by far the most engaging and talented performer throughout 200 Pounds Beauty, and the film is difficult to imagine without her as the main protagonist.

The other actors fare much worse, particularly Joo Jin-mo as love interest Sang-joon. He is lacking in charisma throughout, and the absence of chemistry between him and Kim Ah-joong is solely his responsibility and is highly noticeable. This is in part due to the lack of development of the character as there are an abundance of minor roles, yet there are several opportunities where the actor could convey his emotions. As it is, his performance conveys he is unworthy of Han-na’s love and portrays the romance between them as contrived.

Jenny becomes an idol, yet her identity is in crisis

Jenny becomes an idol, yet her identity is in crisis

Verdict:

200 Pounds Beauty is a comedic and humorous film that attempts to explore both sides of Korea’s obsession with cosmetic surgery, a highly ignored cultural trend – cinematically at least – with a highly competent performance by Kim Ah-joong. While the film does depict a variety of social discourses surrounding the cultural phenomenon, such scenes are often superficial and are undermined to such a degree that 200 Pounds Beauty ultimately reinforces – even encourages – cosmetic surgery as the key to a successful and happy life. Mixed messages notwithstanding, 200 Pounds Beauty is a fun, if rather shallow, comedy about the beauty that lies within.

★★★☆☆

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