Pil-yong's interest in hanji leads to a world he never knew existed

Hanji (달빛 길어올리기) – ★★★☆☆

Hanji (달빛 길어올리기)

Hanji (달빛 길어올리기)

Director Im Kwon-taek (임권택) continues his love affair with Korean culture in Hanji (달빛 길어올리기), a film about the traditional art of paper-making. While such a premise may initially make audiences baulk, the auteur’s love and admiration of the tradition shines through every scene, crafting a poetic narrative about a cultural trait on the brink of extinction.

Hanji tells the story of Pil-yong (Park Joong-hoon (박중훈), a civil servant appointed to a committee charged with the restoration of the only surviving record of the Jeonju Annals. Knowing little of the practice, Pil-yong researches the art with diligence and becomes increasingly passionate about the project. His dedication is in part due to guilt as his actions caused his wife Hyo-kyeong (Ye Ji-won (예지원) to suffer a stroke three years prior, while he had also belittled her former occupation as a paper-maker and never understood the sorrow of her inability to find her hometown. Yet just the project begins, the government withdraws funding and the restoration is placed in jeopardy. Reluctantly teaming with documentary filmmaker Ji-won (Kang Soo-yeon (강수연), Pil-yong battles to save the hanji industry and restore the Jeonju Annuls while proving his worth as a husband.

Pil-yong's interest in hanji leads to a world he never knew existed

Pil-yong’s interest in hanji leads to a world he never knew existed

Hanji is very wisely positioned from Pil-yong’s perspective, a man ignorant of the history and cultural importance of the tradition which allows the audience to learn about the craft through his research and discussions with expert paper-makers on the practice. However this also leads the film to convey documentary-esque sensibilities, a feature of which director Im Kwon-taek is keenly aware and subverts through his ironic inclusion of a documentary team following the restoration project. While their addition does somewhat diffuse the educational dimension, Hanji often straddles the line between film and documentary and occasionally conveys a mild ‘preachy’ tone which is initially interesting, but becomes tiresome in the later stages. However it is Pil-yong’s desire to prove himself, discover his wife’s passion and locate her hometown that compels the narrative forward during such moments, as his responsibility for Ji-won’s illness – and desire to cure her – drives him deeper into the history of hanji, Jeonju, and Korea itself.

The heart of Hanji is the relationship between Pil-yong and Ji-won, which is allegorical of Korean history by reenacting the story of hanji through the trials of a failing marriage. As a descendant of the most famous hanji artist in Korea, Ji-won is hanji personified, while her husband symbolises an artist/author. When Pil-yong’s affair with another woman years prior is discovered, Ji-won suffers a stroke and becomes immobile and depressed, barely able to speak. This reflects the abandonment of hanji by artists, who opted to use paper less difficult to manufacture as it required less work and was more comfortable – a description Pil-yong applies to his infidelity. Yet through his journey, Pil-yong discovers that hanji – like his wife – may well require hard work but the quality of it lasts for at least a thousand years, and doesn’t deteriorate as with lesser equivalents. As a renowned professor describes, hanji is ‘honest’ paper as it reveals the skill of the artist whereas other paper conceals it, leaving a record of which that lasts beyond the grave. In fighting to restore the hanji industry and the Jeonju Annuls at great personal sacrifice, Pil-yong learns the value of identity, culture, history, and marriage.

Ji-won's search for her hometown is allegorical of searching for Korean identity and history

Ji-won’s search for her hometown is symbolic of searching for Korean identity and tradition

In terms of performance, Kang Soo-yeon shines as long-suffering Ji-won, conveying an incredible physical presence through her illness. Her depression and inability to communicate are also highly impressive, particularly her evolution as she struggles to gain greater strength. Park Joong-hoon is competent as Pil-yong, conveying his fascination with hanji and his frustration with the lack of support well. In fairness, there are few scenes that actually challenge the actor as Pil-yong is generally the focal point for Im Kwon-taek’s journey through the history of the craft. That said, the marital dispute and Ji-won’s illness notwithstanding, there is an absence of chemistry between the two central protagonists that is acutely apparent, and while Ji-won’s physical evolution is conveyed the same does not apply to their relationship which is devoid of affection. As such, Pil-yong’s obsession with the history of hanji and restoring his wife’s health is conveyed more as acknowledging his responsibility than reinforcing love between them.

Im Kwon-taek does attempt to rectify this through his masterfully poetic final scenes, in which he emphasizes the importance of Buddhist philosophy and nature, particularly the moon, as integral to the hanji crafting process. It is incredibly romantic as Korea itself is is conveyed as the missing piece of the production puzzle, one that when fully appreciated allows artists to create, the sick to heal, and estranged partners to reunite.

The secrets of hanji lies with Buddhist monks and nature

The secrets of hanji lie with Buddhist monks and nature

Verdict:

Hanji is a film based on a genuine love of Korean culture and tradition by auteur Im Kwon-taek. While at times the film can convey a rather educational, documentary tone the film emphasizes the importance of remembering and supporting cultural traditions as they are inherently tied to notions of identity. Hanji is poetic and philosophical, conveying that diligence and perseverance are highly rewarding experiences and serves as a love letter to a dying cultural tradition.

★★★☆☆

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The unstoppable family prepare for their trip to Japan

Marrying the Mafia IV: Family Ordeal (가문의 영광 4: 가문의 수난) – ★☆☆☆☆

Marrying the Mafia IV - Family Ordeal (가문의 영광 4 - 가문의 수난)

Marrying the Mafia IV: Family Ordeal (가문의 영광 4: 가문의 수난)

Family vacations are ripe arenas for comedy treatment, with the stress and clash of disparate personalities providing relatable scenarios for audiences. The frantic dash for the airport and abandonment of Kevin in Home Alone (1990), family feuds surfacing in The Great Outdoors (1998), and even bumping into an ex and their new lover in Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008), are all seemingly part-and-parcel of the vacation experience.

In Marrying the Mafia IV: Family Ordeal (가문의 영광 4: 가문의 수난) – AKA The Unstoppable Family – a family of gangsters-turned-business moguls finally have the embargo on their visas lifted and opt for a trip to neighbouring Japan. What ensues is one of the worst films to emerge in recent memory, an unwatchable, vapid, and offensive piece of celluloid that is a contender for the title of worst sequel in cinematic history.

President Hong (Kim Soo-mi (김수미) is not only the matriarch of the family but also CEO of the highly successful family business – selling kimchi. Yet her empire comes under threat when companies within Japan begin producing their own sweeter version, ‘kimuchi’, reducing President Hong’s profit levels. On discovering the news that the embargo on her visa, obtained during her former days as a gangster, has been lifted she arranges for a family vacation to Fukuoka with her three sons; effeminate Jang In-jae (Shin Hyeon-joon (신현준); casanova Jang Seok-jae (Tak Jae-hoon (탁재훈); and wannabe gangster Jang Kyeong-jae (Lim Hyeong-joon (임형준). Also in tow is buffoonish dog’s body Jong Myeon (Jeong Joon-ha (정준하), helping to carry luggage. Yet upon arrival in Fukuoka the family are caught in a botched bank heist with In-jae’s former girlfriend Hyun-young (Hyeon Yeong (현영), and fearing incarceration due to miscommunication, flee the scene. The family must endeavour to return to Korea, yet without money it will be quite a challenge.

The unstoppable family prepare for their trip to Japan

The unstoppable family prepare for their trip to Japan

When the best gag in a comedy film is an unattractive man passing wind, something is incredibly wrong. Yet that’s exactly what occurs within Marrying the Mafia IV: Family Ordeal, where attempts at humour are so acutely lame they barely register. Each protagonist is a ridiculous stereotype, so absurd and unfunny that they are impossible to laugh at. As such Marrying the Mafia IV: Family Ordeal is a highly offensive film in that the screenwriter and actors must surely believe the audience are fools in thinking such crass and banal jokes will actually work. The humour is so woefully juvenile that scenes depicting women drinking foot-cleansing water and a man farting to kill fish are actually intended to inspire laughter.

While stereotypes can often be mined for jokes, each member of the family may as well be the same person as only their costumes reflect the intended caricature. They are all void of personality and have zero redeeming features resulting in the absence of empathy, ultimately forcing their ‘struggle’ to survive in Fukuoka wholly redundant. The set-pieces that make their situation worse are ludicrous at best, as when a mentally ill man who apparently has the ability to speak the languages of the world allows the family to ride his bus – which he by canny coincidence is driving through the countryside at night – later becomes berserk and scares them. Offense is not reserved for the mentally ill however, as the misogyny within is utterly appalling. Aside from elderly matriarch President Hong, only two young female protagonists are present and are constantly sexualised as the camera traverses their legs and bodies. The worst is applied to Hong-young who is forced to dress as a schoolgirl and dance to Kpop, rip her dress to make a mini-skirt which the male protagonists look up at every opportunity, and also adorn the highly-sexualised attire of a man’s shirt with hot pants and high heels. She also sucks the cork out of a wine bottle – twice.

The family are bizarrely trapped on a mountain

The family are bizarrely trapped on a mountain

The acting is nothing short of horrendous by all involved. While the protagonists are intended to be lacking in intelligence, the over-acting by the cast is intolerable. None of the actors make their character endearing, interesting or entertaining.

Begging is required to obtain money for noodles

Begging is required to obtain money for noodles

Verdict:

Marrying the Mafia IV: Family Ordeal is without a doubt one of the worst films to emerge from Korea in recent times, a comedy that fails in every degree through the juvenile and absurd sensibilities within. It is offensive in the pursuit of cheap laughs, but the worst offense is ultimately bestowed upon audiences who are presumed to find the film funny. It isn’t. Avoid.

★☆☆☆☆

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The masked swordsman displays incredible grace and skill

Duelist (형사) – ★★★★☆

Duelist (형사)

Duelist (형사)

Well before the release of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon in 2000, martial arts epics set in ancient Asia were incredibly popular. However it was Ang Lee’s classic tale of love and sword-play that thrust the sub-genre into Western cinemas with unprecedented popularity, resulting in even more entering production. Of these, Yimou Zhang’s Hero (2002) and House of Flying Daggers (2004) are noted as perhaps the most critically acclaimed with the Chinese auteur’s keen sense of colour and balletic style proving a winning formula for audiences.

Lee Myeong-Se’s (이명세) Duelist (형사) is one of Korea’s forays into the martial arts epic, and as with most of the auteur’s films it will instantly polarize audiences between those with preconceived mainstream expectations, and those with more art-house sensibilities. Those who fall into the latter category will highly enjoy the exquisite mise-en-scene, abundance of visual metaphors and cinematic playfulness for which the director is renowned.

Set during the Joseon Dynasty, Duelist features Nam-soon (Ha Ji-won (하지원) and Detective Ahn (Ahn Seong-gi (안성기), officers working undercover trying to discover the source of a counterfeiting scandal that is disrupting the country by devaluing the monetary system. The duo track down a gang suspected of circulating fake coins to a market place, and a chaotic battle ensues. Yet before Nam-soon and Detective Ahn can apprehend the criminals, a performing masked swordsman enters the fray and murders all the suspects in an unbelievable display of grace and speed that shocks them all. Spilling a cartful of fraudulent coins to cover his escape, the swordsman flees yet is pursued by Namsoon who engages her target in battle wielding knives, proving herself to be equally as adept by cutting off a portion of his mask. Calling him Sad Eyes (Kang Dong-won (강동원), Nam-soon and Detective Ahn must track him down and halt the counterfeit operation before the hyperinflation destroys the country and the monarchy.

The masked swordsman displays incredible grace and skill

The masked swordsman displays incredible grace and skill

Duelist is an absolutely stunning film, featuring sumptuous visuals and incredible cinematography. The locations are rendered with striking attention to detail, with wonderfully vibrant colours conveying the passion in the markets while shadows consume the back alleys with a noirish aesthetic. As has become expected of director Lee Myeong-Se (이명세), the highly articulate and almost playful artistic style extends to both the narrative and the technical proficiency and in doing so Sad Eyes and Nam-soon are constructed in terms of their opposing gender, offering a radically different stance on traditional action film conventions. Sad Eyes is feminised through his long hair, elegance and grace. His sword-play is mostly captured in slow-motion to convey his fluidity and finesse, while his calm demeanor adds a feminine charm that is simultaneously meek yet confident. Sad Eyes is also without a name, existing purely as image and a prize to be sought after, tamed, and dominated, attributes traditionally enforced upon female roles. As such, Sad Eyes becomes more beautiful than handsome, while his counterpart Nam-soon becomes more handsome than beautiful with her incredibly boisterous and hot-tempered characterisation. She curses, starts fights, and conveys mannerisms akin to a lower-class ruffian, even stalking Sad Eyes in an overt masculine fashion. The ambiguity of gender is enthralling with the role reversal offering an alternative perspective on traditional action and romantic narratives.

Such romantic sentiments are expressed through their martial arts displays, as the fighting is more a highly choreographed dance than a duel to the death. Their styles match perfectly together, flowing and moving as if one, expressing the passion, anger, frustration and longing contained within them knowing that as officer and criminal their relationship can never be. The fighting styles also express their characterisation as Nam-soon’s passionate masculine fervour is contrasted with Sad Eyes’ restrained elegance, moving in and out of shadow, through regular and slow motions, and in the most beautifully poignant scene under gently falling snow.

The lovers' displays of martial arts convey their longing

The lover’s displays of martial arts convey their longing

In addition to employing technical techniques to portray the artifice of cinema, Lee Myeong-se also emphasizes performance in this regard. Ha Ji-won’s tendency to over-act is superbly exploited in Duelist as her exaggerated mannerisms highlight the performance of masculinity, and the hypocrisy in the social acceptance of it for one gender and not the other. Her acting is also amusing particularly when she is forced to adopt a traditional feminine role through wearing hanbok and pouring tea for aristocratic men, the degradation and artifice of which she clearly loathes. Ahn Seong-gi is also required to over-act, yet his performance often alludes to mocking traditional authoritative patriarchal roles of the father figure and law-giver. His mannerisms are quite comical, usually reserved for sidekicks and jesters, undermining his position as authoritarian while simultaneously crafting Detective Ahn as kind and likable.

As he functions primarily as image, Kang Dong-won gives a highly restrained performance allowing his mannerisms, eyes, and the mise-en-scene to convey his characterisation. He does so with incredible skill, conveying a feminine beauty and elegance that are impossible to miss. His eyes are indeed sad, especially when his identity and passivity are expressed, whereby he emerges comparable to a socially suppressed princess with an undesired fate.

The cinematography and mise-en-scene are stunningly rendered

The cinematography and mise-en-scene are stunningly rendered

Verdict:

For cineastes with an appreciation of the aesthetics of cinema, Duelist is an incredible treat with its sumptuous visualization of the Joseon Dynasty era and the gendered role reversal of the leading protagonists. Rather than produce standardized mainstream fare, director Lee Myeong-se has crafted an elegant alternative perspective of martial arts action, making Duelist one of the most impressive contributions to the sub-genre and an outstanding addition to his exemplary filmography.

★★★★☆

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Dong-shik succumbs to temptation

The Housemaid (하녀) (1960) – ★★★★★

The Housemaid (하녀) 1960

The Housemaid (하녀) 1960

Few films can claim to be the driving force of a cinematic movement. Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane (1941); Jean-Luc Goddard’s A Bout de Souffle (1960); and in Korea, Kim Ki-young’s (김기영) 1960 classic The Housemaid (하녀).

The Housemaid is a simply incredible film that eloquently captures Korean society and culture on the brink of change, struggling with the traditional and the modern in ways both subtle and overt. The duality and oppositions within are portrayed through every shot, every frame, every protagonist, and yet despite the enormity of metaphors and allegories present the central story is a simple domestic affair that threatens to engulf everything. This in effect emphasizes the ambiguity of identity that has so plagued Korean history and culture through the various cultural, political and religious colonialist acts, in part coining the term ‘han’ – the sense of deep-rooted sadness and injustice – which also features in Kim Ki-young’s seminal tale.

The Housemaid features piano teacher Dong-sik (Kim Jin-kyu (김진규), a married man who is nonetheless highly admired by his all-female class. When student Miss Kwan writes Dong-sik a love letter, he is so appalled that the student is fired from her factory job and forced to return to her countryside hometown. Despite this, Dong-sik begins teaching the her best friend, Jo Kyeong-hee (Um Aing-ran (엄앵란), piano lessons at his middle-class home. His wife (Ju Jeung-ryu (주증녀) works from home as a seamstress and takes care of their son Chang-soon (Ahn Seong-gi (안성기) and polio-suffering daughter, leaving little time to cook and clean. In need of a domestic help, Dong-sik asks Miss Jo for assistance who in turn recommends her friend to be their housemaid (Lee Eun-shim (이은심). Problems arise however when Miss Kwan, so humiliated by the scandal of rejection, commits suicide. In shock, Dong-shik returns home where the housemaid takes advantage of the situation to seduce him, sending the entire household into the depths of scandal.

The housemaid eavesdrops on Dong-shik's piano lesson

The housemaid eavesdrops on Dong-shik’s piano lesson

While the 1960s were a tumultuous period for a large number of cultures as left-wing ideology became increasingly more prevalent, the era was especially difficult for Korea. With the Korean War ending in a ceasefire only years prior and the following protests against dictatorship, Korea was struggling to find identity amongst the conflict between the traditional and the modern, the influx of Americana, the growing women’s rights movement, the gulf between social classes, and the drive to rebuild itself – all of which are present within The Housemaid.

The film is somewhat of a male fantasy-turned-nightmare, where a successful happily married man is admired and sought after by young women, resisting temptation until he is virtually forced into adultery. The gender politics within The Housemaid  are fascinating, presenting a huge shift in gender power as active and passive roles are reversed. The young women are all highly aware of their sexuality and power, and use them to achieve their goals; Miss Kwan takes the initiative in scribing a love letter for Dong-shik declaring her feelings, while Miss Jo regularly visits his house for personal one-on-one piano tutorials. Such lessons convey Dong-shik’s subconscious desire for Miss Jo as he continually touches her hands while playing, indicting him for his flirtatious manner. The housemaid keenly observes this behaviour, and manipulates the situation for herself by wearing wet clothing and seducing him with her uncovered skin. Dong-shik is consistently represented as a passive male, a victim of fate often ascribed to female roles, with the one instance of active fortitude in admitting his affair resulting in further passivity and his ultimate downfall, seemingly punished for his guilt and honesty. Yet despite the reversal, names are never ascribed to either the housemaid nor the wife as they are expected to merely perform the roles they inhabit, which the narrative wonderfully subverts as both women forcibly change the labels imposed upon them to varying degrees of success.

Dong-shik succumbs to temptation

Dong-shik succumbs to temptation

Lee Eun-shim gives an absolutely masterful performance as the housemaid, akin to Glen Close’s Alex Forest from Fatal Attraction (1987) only 27 years prior and without the Hollywoodized set-pieces. Lee Eun-shim’s performance was so enthralling and captivating that Korean audiences, in what must surely be the one of the biggest mis-readings of a film in cinematic history, despised her character so much that Lee Eun-shim was ultimately forced to never act again. Such a travesty is undoubtedly due to the fact that The Housemaid was vastly ahead of its time in depicting a strong female protagonist wronged by a successful man during a period when patriarchy was absolute, perhaps even militant, as the encroaching women’s rights movement began to surface in Korean culture. As the titular housemaid, Lee Eun-shim openly smokes, is unafraid of vermin and uses violence to dispatch them, is aware of her sexuality and powers of seduction, and crucially to the narrative she is highly aware of her entitlement after the affair has begun and the scandal should the information be made public. While she does indeed become psychotic she only does so as a result of the manipulation by middle-class Dong-shik and his wife, who abuse the young housemaid into a state of confused mental instability, actions for which the audience of the time never held them to account. Such an empowered representation in 1960 is an incredible achievement, and one that is impossible to understate.

Traditional married life becomes under threat through infidelity

Traditional married life becomes under threat through infidelity

Dong-shik’s family are representative of a typical middle-class household, with their newly built two-story abode. The use of mise-en-scene within the house is sophisticated, with doors emphasising exclusivity and isolation while the stairs serve as a hub or nexus point between the traditional culture and  roles on the lower level, and the modern ideology on the second floor. Dong-sik’s family occupy the lower arena, conveyed through his wife’s traditional hanbok clothing and her seamstress occupation, while the housemaid performs her duties. The wife’s dedication and purity are such that she even has the ability to foresee the future, albeit through metaphor. It is very much a patriarchal zone where Dong-shik is respected, and in his absence son Chang-soon arrogantly attempts to emulate the ideology through rudely barking orders at the housemaid. Upstairs however is a rather different domain in which roles are reversed, women are empowered, and Dong-shik’s subconscious desires are realised. In his study room he provides flirtatious piano lessons for Miss Jo, who actively sought his guidance. In the adjacent room is the housemaid’s quarters where he seduced, and later at the behest of his wife told to return. In contrast to the traditional billowy hanbok, the housemaid wears a tight black dress that attempts to convey her devious sexual empowerment, particularly in the final act when her mental instability becomes untenable.

The stairs pose a unique challenge to Dong-shik’s polio-suffering daughter who struggles to traverse the hub on her crutches, an allegory for her generation in which young women of her generation struggle to find their identity between the roles expected and those desired.

The features within the mise-en-scene, notably doors and stairs, highlight isolation and ideology

The features within the mise-en-scene, notably doors and stairs, convey isolation and ideology

Verdict:

The Housemaid is a landmark piece of filmmaking, one that captures the considerable array of socio-cultural anxieties of the era through the protagonists and mise-en-scene with incredible sophistication years ahead of its time. The narrative is timeless and enthralling in depicting the breakdown of family through betrayal, while the gender politics and debates within are captivating. Such recognition is not stated in terms of national cinema, but as a classic on the global stage as The Housemaid deserves acknowledgment on an international scale as an incredibly significant contribution to world cinema.

★★★★★

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Yoo-suk and Ae-yeon form a bond during a botched bank heist

Couples (커플즈) – ★★☆☆☆

Couples (커플즈)

Couples (커플즈)

Intertwined tales of romance between couples seemingly unconnected from each other has become a regular feature of the romantic-comedy, although few contain the charm of Love, Actually (2003) which arguably kick-started the current trend. While by no means a perfect film, Love, Actually succeeded in depicting a variety of couples from disparate socio-economic backgrounds, representing the various problems they face within a highly romanticized London during Christmas time.

The holy trinity of compelling couples, romantic city and endearing holiday period are notably absent from Jeong Yong-ki’s (정용기) Couples (커플즈). Aside from a handful of humorous moments, Couples is lacking in both comedy and more importantly romance due to the shallow and contrived protagonists and events within.

Yoo-suk (Kim Joo-hyeok (김주혁), a tea shop owner, is incredibly sad following the sudden disappearance of his fiancee Na-ri (Lee Si-yeong (이시영) two months prior. Worse still he used all means available in order to buy a house for their future, which is increasingly bleak as creditors close in and minor accidents result in threats of legal action. Desperate, Yoo-suk hires private investigator and best friend Bok-nam (Oh Jeong-se (오정세) to find Na-ri. Meanwhile Yoo-suk forms a relationship with traffic officer Ae-yeon (Lee Yoon-ji (이윤지) during a botched bank heist, herself a recent singleton from a lying ex. Bok-nam manages to track down Na-ri and becomes infatuated with her, but her gold-digging ways have resulted in a new partner, gangster Byung-chan (Kong Hyeong-jin (공형진).

Yoo-suk and Ae-yeon form a bond during a botched bank heist

Yoo-suk and Ae-yeon form a bond during a botched bank heist

If the above synopsis sounds unnecessarily contrived, then you’d be right as Couples quite literally includes all manner of bizarre set-pieces for the sake of comedy which rarely pays off. Worse still, there is no attempt to portray events such as bank heists, near-miss car crashes, involvement with private investigators and gangsters and so forth with any originality which further emphasises their manufactured inclusion within the narrative. Such scenes also detract from any notion of romance as the inorganic nature of the multiple plot strands conveys a lack of genuine connection between the couples, and as such renders them all as unconvincing or compelling.

Director Jeong Yong-ki is competent throughout, however his decision to craft the narrative as non-linear is highly problematic as the editing between different couples and timelines destroys any sense of romance that has been conveyed prior. Worse still are the inserts of interviewed couples which add nothing to the film and quickly become an annoyance, as often the couples interviewed have only a minor connection to the main story and are included for the sake of cheap comedy, such as tripping and pulling a women’s skirt down.

Where Couples does succeed is in the initial portrayal of Yoo-suk and Ae-yeon. Ridiculous scenarios aside, the slow and occasionally humorous moments that occur are endearing, with sharing their tales of heartache further solidifying their romantic development. Private investigator Bok-nam is also comical, fancying himself as a Humphrey Bogart/Batman-esque sleuth who is routinely foiled and humiliated.

Bok-nam tracks down the gold-digging Na-ri

Bok-nam tracks down the gold-digging Na-ri

In terms of performance, the central couple played by Kim Joo-hyeok and Lee Yoon-ji are by far the best in the film and provide the most naturalized portrayal of romance – a portrayal which is later wholly undermined by the narrative in a clearly desperate endeavor for a conventional finale. Oh Jeong-se overacts his role as Bok-nam, however his style is suitable given that his entire character is a parody of masculinity and as such offers moments of comedy. Ironically for a film titled ‘Couples’, Bok-nam is the only protagonist not included in one – his unrequited infatuation notwithstanding – which is a real oversight. Lee Si-yeong is woeful as gold-digging Na-ri. Her overacting is frustratingly annoying, while her consumerist character is represented as so entirely selfish and ignorant that her quest to find real love is unengaging due to the lack of empathy. Instead Na-ri functions as a prize, a villainous woman who must be tamed by a man. This role is bestowed upon Kong Hyeong-jin as gangster Byung-chan, who performs his stoic character competently despite the lack of screen-time.

Gangster Byung-chan falls for Na-ri despite her love of money

Gangster Byung-chan falls for Na-ri despite her love of money

Verdict:

Couples is a lackluster addition to the romantic-comedy fold, due to the highly contrived narrative and absence of genuine emotion throughout. While certain scenes – notably portraying central couple Yoo-suk and Ae-young – are endearing they are halted from development through the decision to craft the film as non-linear and randomly including interview scenes from couples who have merely a passing reference to the main narrative. As such, Couples is for die-hard rom-com fans only.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews
Dr. Daniel Martin, director Lee Myeong-se, and the very talented translator

London-Korean Film Night, Jan 2012 – ‘Duelist’ (형사) and Q+A with director Lee Myeong-se (이명세)

On Thursday the 26th of January, the Korean Culture Centre in London held the first of twelve planned Q+A film nights with legendary Korean directors.

A month dedicated to director Lee Myeong-se (이명세)

A month dedicated to director Lee Myeong-se (이명세)

For January’s edition the director in question was Lee Myeong-se (이명세) in conjunction with his 2005 film ‘Duelist’ (형사). Presiding over the event was Dr. Daniel Martin who introduced both the film and the director, giving the history and context to Lee Myeong-se’s (이명세) illustrious career and auteuristic sensibilities.

The film was very well-received by the audience, and during the following Q+A Lee Myeong-se (이명세) was in good humour throughout and very entertaining.

Dr. Daniel Martin began the Q+A with some questions about Lee Myeong-se’s (이명세) career, and particularly the actors that he has worked with. The director replied that he wanted to work with Ahn Seong-gi (안성기) as the actor had a very strong image as a good man in Korean cinema, and that his roles were limited due to typecasting. Director Lee wanted to change that and play with such preconceptions and cast him in Nowhere to Hide. In addition, Director Lee also cast his own mentor in a comedic role, as he had always had ambitions to be an actor; yet his mentor later revealed the role reversal, where Director Lee had to give instruction, had made him rather uncomfortable. In regards to using younger actors, Director Lee said he was impressed with Ha Ji-won’s (하지원) TV drama work and Kang Dong-won (강동원) had acted well in a prior film and had the ‘look’ he wanted.

For his next project, Director Lee stated he is planning an action film titled ‘Mr. K’ and jokingly claimed that it will surpass the James Bond films.

Dr. Daniel Martin, director Lee Myeong-se, and the very talented translator

Dr. Daniel Martin, director Lee Myeong-se, and the very talented translator

When asked about why he is concerned with the artificiality of cinema rather than attempting to achieve realism, Director Lee answered that he didn’t watch films when he was young which he is now grateful for as he wasn’t exposed to the conventions of cinema. Instead he is inspired by poetry and other creative works in discovering ‘what makes a film’.

In regards to the wide variety of music from other cultures and eras within ‘Duelist’ (형사), Lee Myeong-se (이명세) replied that if he likes music and it fits with his vision within a film, then he will use it regardless of faithfulness to an era.

Quizzed about his own martial arts prowess, Director Lee explained that he, like all Korean men who have undertaken military service, is a black belt in Taekwondo. However if he were to give a display, it would be highly comedic.

Following this, the director very kindly gave autographs and pictures to those who attended – including me!

Me with director Lee Myeong-se!

Me with director Lee Myeong-se!

Next month, the Korean Cultural Centre will be dedicated to director E J-yong with the Q+A to be held on February the 23rd alongside the screening of his 2009 film Actresses (여배우들).

Festival News
Min-woo is a successful author with an idea he can't conceptualize

M (M (엠)) – ★★★★☆

M (M (엠))

M (M (엠))

Identity and memory are complicated postmodern concepts to convey cinematically. Michel Gondry’s sublime Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) is perhaps the most renowned mainstream production to interrogate such abstract subject matter, conveying the importance of love, loss and memory as fundamental in the creation and evolution of identity. Without them, Gondry posits, a person will forever be trapped in an identity loop where choices and mistakes are destined to be repeated.

M (M (엠)) also explores such abstract themes and, thanks to artistic auteur Lee Myeong-se (이명세), in a postmodern art-house style. The result is one that instantly polarizes audiences between those with expectations of mainstream conventions and those with an appreciation of art cinema; the former will dislike the absence of structured storytelling and unconventional visualization, while the latter will find enjoyment in the colours, mise-en-scene, and technical innovation.

Min-woo (Kang Dong-won (강동원) is a successful novelist, struggling to write the amazing idea locked within his brain that he can’t fully recall. Plagued by insomnia, Min-woo suffers from hallucinations and stress – when he does sleep, he is hounded by nightmarish dreams. The boundaries between reality and his subconscious blur constantly as Min-woo is confronted by images and scenarios both new and  vaguely familiar, all the while stalked by love-stricken Mi-mi (Lee Yeon-hee (이연희). Finally confronting each other in a bar, Min-woo tells Mi-mi his idea but awakes in his apartment with no recollection. Pushing away his faithful wife Eun-hye (Kong Hyo-jin (공효진) with his erratic behaviour, Min-woo attempts to track down the mysterious Mi-mi within the surreal landscape in order to unlock the story seemingly trapped within his subconscious.

Min-woo is a successful author with an idea he can't conceptualize

Min-woo is a successful author with an idea he can’t conceptualize

The visuals within M are astounding and a testament to the creative flair of Lee Myeong-se, who constructs and frames locations with phenomenal artistic skill. Each venue is masterfully created to portray the wildly different emotions within the subconscious of Min-woo. A street scene, which serves as something of a nexus point within the film, is constructed akin to a Parisian boulevard with the placement of sunlight and the camera filters working in conjunction to convey a beautifully romantic setting, emphasizing the purity of the love Mi-mi exudes despite her stalking. Conversely the employment of shadows and darkness adds genuine horror to scenes within Min-woo’s apartment as insomnia and nightmares take hold, while the alley leading to Lupin’s bar is reminiscent of Ridley Scott’s dystopian Bladerunner (1982).

Similarly the technical prowess within M virtually demands recognition for the innovations displayed. Camera angles and movements allow the audience to experience the disorientation felt by Min-woo, resulting in both having difficulty in perceiving dreams from reality. When Min-woo meets Mi-mi in Lupin’s bar their conversation alternates between moving and still images that capture the moments they share, as if being monitored as well as emulating photographs from a date. The meeting between Min-woo and his agent and later his father-in-law are absorbing as the camera zooms into a painting that emulates the restaurant itself; the painting-within-a-painting becomes a painting-within-a-film-within-a-painting becoming a wonderful visual device that expresses Min-woo’s confused perception.

The visual devices within M are highly innovative

The visual devices within M are highly innovative

The focus on artistic and technical merit results in lack of attention on the narrative itself, with the trajectory often not strong enough to link scenes and propel the film forward, instead relying on the suspense and mystery of the visuals to connect scenes. This is unfortunate as the narrative is highly compelling when given attention yet this occurs randomly and infrequently, detracting from the drive for resolution.

This criticism can also be applied to the performances of the central cast, often employed as a focus for the mise-en-scene rather than their acting ability. This particularly applies to Kang Dong-won as Min-woo, as his character is constantly a conundrum due to the various extremes of emotions that he portrays. As such it is problematic to form an empathic bond with him, made more difficult during moments of over-acting. Lee Yeon-hee however is incredibly endearing as Mi-mi, exuding innocence and demure femininity with confidence. Her stalking is cute rather than creepy through her wonderful mannerisms, and her battle with the shadows is full of suspense and horror. Despite the small screen-time given to Kong Hyo-jin, as Min-woo’s wife Eun-hye, she competently portrays an ignored housewife.

The street 'nexus' is highly romantic while Mi-mi's stalking is sweet natured

The street ‘nexus’ is highly romantic while Mi-mi’s stalking is sweet natured

Verdict:

M will undoubtedly not appeal to fans of structured mainstream films, with its abstract exploration of memory, loss and identity. For those interested in more artistic and experimental filmmaking, is a visual tour-de-force with incredible expression of colour and technical confidence. The poignancy of Min-woo’s journey through his subconscious is acute, and serves as a wonderfully thrilling and romantic addition to auteur Lee Myeong-se’s filmography.

★★★★☆

Reviews
Doo-heon is drawn back to the syndicate through his best friend's death

Hindsight (푸른 소금) – ★★★☆☆

Hindsight (푸른 소금)

Hindsight (푸른 소금)

Gangsters attempting to retire from a life of organised crime is an oft-explored subject within the gangster genre. Leaving the syndicate prompts an array of scenarios. Is it possible to live a ‘normal’ non-violent life? Can the vacuum of power be fulfilled without anarchy? Perhaps most importantly, can the organisation allow the risk of a member, who is privy to countless illegal activities, to live?

Hindsight (푸른 소금) attempts to address such hypothetical questions as second-in-command Doo-heon (Song Kang-ho (송강호) retires from the syndicate he co-founded to open a restaurant. While the premise has potential and action sequences convey directorial flair, the cliches, absence of identity and lack of narrative cohesion make Hindsight quite a disappointment.

Doo-heon (Song Kang-ho) lives in the laid-back port city of Busan, studying the culinary arts in order to open his own restaurant. He retired from a Seoul criminal syndicate he co-founded years earlier, turning his back on his former violent lifestyle yet is still friendly with members of the organisation. Doo-heon’s new carefree life has led to forging a friendship with a fellow student in his cooking class, a young and feisty woman named Se-bin (Sin Se-kyeong (신세경), who often jokingly chastises him for his poor abilities in the kitchen. However things change when word of his best friend, and head of the criminal empire, dies in an accident. As the former second-in-command Doo-heon can lead the syndicate, yet other mob bosses have other ideas and order their mole – Se-bin – to kill Doo-heon.

Doo-heon and Se-bin become close during their culinary class

Doo-heon and Se-bin become close during their culinary class

Hindsight‘s real title ‘푸른 소금’ directly translates as ‘blue salt’, both of which are continually referenced through the film. Blue filters and metallic mise-en-scene are often employed by director Lee Hyeon-seung (이현승), conveying the cold and harsh, yet futuristic and stylish, lifestyle of gangster Doo-yeon and his associates. It is through such scenes that Lee Hyeon-seung excels, conveying the isolated sophistication with confidence and the action sequences with real skill. His vision in the final confrontation is also of note, employing blue filters to a stand-off in a field of rice paddies that is visually impressive.

Where Hindsight falters is through ‘salt’, a device so overused that it quickly becomes tiresome and is symbolic of the abundance of cliches and narrative shortcomings. Salt is constantly employed in an unsubtle fashion in order to develop the relationship between Doo-heon and Se-bin, but the references are often inorganic and highlight the artificiality of the plot device. When Se-bin constructs ‘salt bullets’ for her targets the predictability becomes painfully clear while a leap in the suspension of disbelief is required for the narrative to remain logical and enjoyable. This unfortunately also applies to the narrative as a whole which contains vast plot holes, thoughtless characterization, and a lack of synergy between the disparate parts. While the amalgamation of different genres is one of the highly entertaining features of Korean cinema, in Hindsight it serves to remove any sense of identity and narrative cohesion. When the gangsters search for Doo-hyeon – an easy task considering he stays within his apartment – any sense of threat posed by the assassins is destroyed by the overly-long focus on his relationship with Se-bin. When Se-bin’s dual identity is revealed, a bizarre MTV style montage of her dancing with a friend appears rendering the drama moot. Director/screenwriter Lee Hyeon-seung seemingly can’t decide if Hindsight is a gangster film or a love story, with the rigid narrative framework and lack of editing between the two worlds also largely responsible for halting the suture between them.

Doo-heon is drawn back to the syndicate through his best friend's death

Doo-heon is drawn back to the syndicate through his best friend’s death

Characterization and performance are further issues within Hindsight. Much has been said regarding Sin Se-kyeong’s acting skills, with critics claiming she ‘holds her own’ against screen legend Song Kang-ho. While she certainly gives a competent performance, Hindsight is very far from Song Kang-ho at his best. His character schizophrenically flits from overly kind middle-aged man to psychotic maniac, further adding to the lack of cohesion between the romantic and gangster genres within. To his credit Song Kang-ho is charismatic in both capacities, which unfortunately emphasizes the wasted potential of the premise. Sin Se-kyeong has similar problems portraying Se-bin, a cliched female protagonist who is stereotypically beautiful-yet-damaged, one minute stone-cold killer and the next sweet and innocent. Despite this, she performs the role ably.

The same cannot be said for the array of gangsters, all of whom are woefully underdeveloped. In addition to the overabundance of criminals, they are also subjected to a disproportionate amount of screen time compared to Doo-heon and Se-bin equating to a severe absence of threat and drama with the various betrayals and murders that ensue.

Se-bin is ordered to kill Doo-heon

Se-bin is ordered to kill Doo-heon

Verdict:

Hindsight (푸른 소금) is a problematic entry into the gangster genre due to the lack of cohesion between the disparate genres in conjunction with simplified and underdeveloped characterization. As such the film’s identity and the narrative direction are often highly ambiguous, despite the competent direction particularly in regard to the action sequences, that make Hindsight an occasionally stimulating but rather flawed addition.

★★★☆☆

Reviews
Seok-hwan cuts a swathe through gangster to uncover the truth

The City of Violence (짝패) – ★★★☆☆

The City of Violence (짝패)

The City of Violence (짝패)

Postmodern representations of action narratives and violence are big business. Arnold Swarzenegger’s films in the late ’80s wisely parodied his hyper-masculinity for comedic effect, while Quentin Tarantino virtually single-handedly made such depictions popular within the gangster genre in the ’90s. More recently, director’s such as Stephen Chow (Kung Fu Hustle, 2004) and duo Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor (Crank, 2006) have capitalized on the eccentricities of the genre, exaggerating them to insane levels for innovative and entertaining set-pieces.

Ryoo Seung-wan (류승완) has built a solid reputation and loyal fan-base through his own reverential-yet-playful productions, representing the oft-explored areas of brotherhood, the gangster/police officer dichotomy, and ultra-violence. All his auteuristic traits are present within The City of Violence (짝패), a film that initially starts slowly but becomes a riveting action-thriller in the final act.

When prolific gangster Wang-jae (Ahn Kil-kang (안길강) is murdered by a group of young local thugs, his oldest and dearest friends reunite for the funeral, including Seoul detective Tae-su (Jeong Doo-hong (정두홍) and hot-headed gangster Seok-hwan (Ryoo Seung-wan (류승완). Alongside crime kingpin Pil-ho (Lee Beom-soo (이범수) and math teacher Dong-hwan (Jeong Seok-yong (정석용), the group reminisce about their childhood and lament the loss of their old friend. Yet something about the attack feels wrong to Tae-su, and he begins an investigation into his friend’s murder but encounters more questions than answers. Joined by Seok-hwan, the pair punch and kick their way through an army of miscreants to finally get the truth.

Tae-su suspects foul play, and investigates his friend's death

Tae-su suspects foul play, and investigates his friend’s death

The narrative of The City of Violence is far from original, depicting the gathering of a group of friends that have drifted apart since their inseparable childhood. Tae-su also fits within the archetypal mode of the outsider-hero, returning to his former home to instill justice within the populace. In portraying such overly familiar themes director Ryoo Seung-wan is highly reverential, conveying confidence and a measure of comfort through the postmodern nostalgia value. This approach is also detrimental however as the lack of parody equates to a level of seriousness that detracts from the enjoyment, while the distinct absence of inspiration and ingenuity produces a rather bland and predictable plot. Considering the immense success of Friend in 2001 which explored similar themes in incredible depth, the choice to focus so reliantly upon stereotypical protagonists without self-parody is puzzling. The first and second acts are quite dull due to the often plodding predictability, although conversely pleasure is often derived in this fashion through conventions such as the hard-boiled cop, the flamboyant kingpin, the hot-headed sidekick, and so forth.

Where Ryoo Seung-wan’s directing skills shine are in the tremendous final act, in which Tae-su and Seok-hwan fight a veritable army of gangsters. The extreme-violence is beautifully choreographed and almost balletic, while on a technical note the camera-work, framing and editing are sublime. The reverence to the action films of Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan are clear as the duo battle an assortment of foot-soldiers wearing clothing associated with a particular gang – baseball players, chefs, b-boys and so on – crafting action sequences akin to the old 1990s computer game era. This motif is further reinforced as Tae-su and Seok-hwan must fight ever more challenging opponents that lead to a showdown with the big boss, similar in nature to the martial arts tournaments as in Enter The Dragon (1973). Ryoo Seung-wan’s wisely injects tongue-in-cheek humour throughout the proceedings as the duo, tired and beaten, must continue to soldier on producing some wonderfully comical moments.

Pil-ho is the local kingpin vying for power

Pil-ho is the local kingpin vying for power

In addition to directing Ryoo Seung-wan also performs as Seok-hwan. While his role is generally quite limited, he nonetheless conveys the hot-tempered protagonist well and is responsible for some astounding action and his skill is impossible not to commend. Similarly Jeong Doo-hong as Tae-su is incredibly gifted in his physical prowess, performing highly entertaining displays of martial arts. The stoic nature of his character is also conveyed competently through his no-nonsense attitude and dark clothing, archetypal but enjoyable for that very reason. The most grandiose archetype is bestowed upon Lee Beom-soo as crime boss Pil-ho, conveying his vicious nature and lust for power with conviction. His wonderfully tailored suits express his need for approval and acceptance just as much as his cowering to bosses from Seoul, making Pil-ho the most compelling and three-dimensional protagonist within the film. The bloodthirsty motivations, in conjunction with the camp facade and troupe of bodyguards, are a testament to classic Bond villains and make Pil-ho a protagonist that’s easy to love to hate.

Seok-hwan cuts a swathe through gangster to uncover the truth

Seok-hwan cuts a swathe through gangsters to uncover the truth

Verdict:

The City of Violence is an unapologetic homage to classic action films and while there is a certain level of nostalgia and enjoyment to be had, the film suffers from predictable, bland and uninspiring first and second acts. The final act is where the skills of the director and cast shine however, crafting an incredibly entertaining and postmodern finale that finishes on a high note and will have action fans wondering why the entire film doesn’t convey the same passion and finesse.

★★★☆☆

Reviews
Min-yeoung and boss Byeong-hoon observe their latest scenario

Cyrano Agency (시라노;연애조작단) – ★★★☆☆

Cyrano Agency (시라노;연애조작단)

Cyrano Agency (시라노;연애조작단)

The perils of dating have long been a feature of the romantic-comedy, perhaps portrayed more than any other area of the relationship status-quo due to the high probability of farcical foolishness that will ensue. Attempting to appear suave, beautiful, intellectual, sophisticated, rich, cultured – the possibilities are endless for misunderstandings and comedic confrontations. The Will Smith starring Hitch (2005) took an alternative approach to the tried-and-tested formula, featuring a ‘date doctor’ to help fumbling men stop self-sabotaging their amorous advances.

In Cyrano Agency (시라노;연애조작단) this premise is expanded from a solitary ‘date doctor’ to a troupe of actors, who study and research the targets of smitten clients and prepare scenarios, rehearse lines of script, and employ every romantic cliche at their disposal for a successful matchmaking  service. The name is, of course, taken from the famous play Cyrano de Bergerac, and while the idea of displaced romance is present and the film is quite charming, it suffers from misplaced melodrama, lack of depth and a finale that is incredibly bitter-sweet.

Byeong-hoon (Eom Tae-woong (엄태웅) is the head of a failed acting troupe consisting of feisty female advisor Min-yeong (Park Sin-hye (박신혜), researcher Jae-pil  (Jeon Ah-min (전아민) and chameleonic Cheol-bin  (Park Cheol-min (박철민). In order to generate money for theatre productions they create the Cyrano Agency, an organization where the actors use their talents to help lovelorn men match with the women they desire, with an impressive 99% success rate. Yet complications arise when Sang-yong (Choi Daniel (최 다니엘) arrives asking for assistance in wooing the beautiful rebellious Hee-joong (Lee Min-jeong (이민정) – the former girlfriend of Agency boss Byeong-hoon. Will Byeong-hoon put his personal feelings aside and complete the contract, or steal Hee-joong for himself?

Min-yeoung and boss Byeong-hoon observe their latest scenario

Min-yeoung and boss Byeong-hoon observe their latest scenario

One of the strengths of Cyrano Agency lies in the highly charismatic opening sequence, in which the acting troupe help to woo a barista for a client. The team train their love-stricken patron to act cool and aloof akin to romantic actors, and stage an array of cliched devices – making the the target jealous, playing soundtracks, and even employing a ‘rain machine’ for a melodramatic finale – offering a wonderfully postmodern and comedic portrayal of love. The directing and editing are highly competent during this sequence with both parties fully aware of the conventions of the romance genre, simultaneously revering the material through dramatic framing and parodying through overt melodrama. Unfortunately, after such a strong opening, Cyrano Agency falters. The whimsical tongue-in-cheek nature initially conveyed is jettisoned in favour of genuine melodrama, and the change in tone detracts from the overall enjoyment as the comedy quickly deteriorates. The premise certainly has potential, as next target Hee-joong is also the former girlfriend of boss Byeong-hoon, with his subconscious sabotage of scenarios initially humourous but quickly becoming petty. Bizarrely, the relationship – both past and present – between Byeon-hoon and Hee-joong is foreground, emphasising their intertwined destiny as they continually encounter each other and in doing so reveal the love they both still clearly share. As such, client Sang-yong is somewhat of a footnote in the proceedings and the notion that Byeong-hoon would continue to help match him with together with Hee-jong is odd at best.

Hee-joong’s role is incredibly underdeveloped and passive, merely serving to be pretty and to act as the prize in the relationship tug-of-war. Such a misogynistic representation is exacerbated by the insincerity of Sang-yong as he has fallen in love with her image, rather than her personality. This is ultimately the major failing point of Cyrano Agency, as while the narrative portrays the facade of love it never truly explores it, despite given ample opportunity when the team encounter heart-broken former clients. This leads to an incredibly bitter-sweet finale as Hee-joong, finally with knowledge of the agency and Byeong-hoon and Sang-yong’s role, makes her choice.

Hee-joong becomes the next target

Hee-joong becomes the next target/prize

The shift in focus on the love triangle from the earlier team dynamic further alters the pace and tone, relegating members of the team to almost cameo sized roles rather than supporting ones, an unfortunate choice considering their impact in the early stages. Despite this, the actors perform their roles well particularly Park Sin-hye as Min-yeong, conveying strength and passion in each scene. As Cyrano Agency becomes an unrequited love triangle, acting duties generally fall to three core performers. Eom Tae-woong is the most notable conveying his internal conflict between his own desire and his job well. Lee Min-jeong is competent as Hee-joong, although the limiting role is responsible for her restrained performance. Choi Daniel unfortunately suffers the most due to the somewhat schizophrenic nature of protagonist Sang-yong. Sang-yong flits between moment of grandiose kindness to liar, from sensitive romantic to criminal, even causing one of the team members from the Agency to comment that something is amiss with their client. The distrust and insincerity conveyed again undermine the notion that Byeong-hoon would attempt to pair Sang-yong with the woman he is seemingly destined for.

Byeong-hoon rehearses the script with client Sang-yong

Byeong-hoon rehearses the script with client Sang-yong

Verdict:

Cyrano Agency is an enjoyable take on the romantic-comedy genre, particularly the wonderful opening sequence that plays with notions of romance in a postmodernist fashion. The decision to deviate from such a winning formula is puzzling, as the focus on a love triangle and the insincerity of the love portrayed albeit not explored, detract from the pace, tone, and promise offered in the first fifteen minutes. That said, fans of the genre will no doubt be appeased by what Cyrano Agency offers, although many will be perplexed by the bitter-sweet nature of the finale.

★★★☆☆

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