Jiseul (지슬)

Jiseul (지슬) – ★★★★★

Jiseul (지슬)

Jiseul (지슬)

Director O Muel’s (오멸) Jiseul (지슬) quickly became known as one of the most interesting and exemplary screenings upon its debut at the 2012 Busan International Film Festival. The monochrome film depicts the little-known events of the 1948 Jeju Island Uprising – or rather, massacre – in which the Korean military brutally suppressed and killed up to a fifth of the entire population. For fifty years after, even mentioning what transpired was a crime punishable by torture and incarceration. Yet with his fourth feature director O Muel, a Jeju Islander himself, presents the atrocities that were committed with stark and uncompromising realism, simultaneously portraying the horrifying events alongside the indomitable spirit of the Jeju villagers. While Jiseul suffers due to lack of context and scope, the film is poignant and harrowing in its account of the tragedy, with the five awards won at BIFF, and an invitation to the 2013 Sundance Film Festival and International Film Festival Rotterdam, testament to its raw cinematic power.

Jiseul (지슬)

Jiseul (지슬)

Throughout Jiseul director O Meul employs stunning directorial flair in capturing the range of experiences brought about by the Uprising. Of particular note are the astonishing long takes that are utterly absorbing, drawing the audience into such awful events as exploring a homestead following a raid, and an all-out assault on a village. In addition to the monochrome colours, such long takes are highly effective in conveying stark, chilling realism and as such are powerfully emotive. It’s impossible not to feel horror as farmers and the elderly are mercilessly stabbed and brutalized during such sequences. The incredible cinematography by Yang Jung-Hoon also adds potency as the snow covered landscapes and farming villages are attractive yet foreboding, and the tension as these arenas are traversed is often palpable.

The residents of the town seek shelter and safety in a cave

The residents of the town seek shelter and safety in a cave

Yet the heart of Jiseul is undoubtedly the assortment of colourful characters that populate the film, particularly the Islanders who flee to the safety of the caves. O Muel displays his talents as a scriptwriter with their dialogue as the Islanders laugh, bicker, and discuss the farming lifestyle amongst themselves, all of which are highly amusing. While there are too many figures to delve into serious character development, the conversations are unfailing in creating empathy with their plight. Initially, due to the lack of context, it seems as if the Islanders are running from a threat that doesn’t exist. Yet as the narrative progresses, and the terrible physical and sexual assaults perpetrated by the soldiers are portrayed, the threat becomes ever more real. In Korean cinema such atrocities are most commonly aligned with an external threat – typically Japanese imperial forces – and O Muel deserves credit for challenging this ideological form and locating the threat internally. The director also wisely moves beyond mere stereotypes of evil in depicting factions of soldiers breaking away from the main Korean army, holding true to historical accounts.

It is in this historical regard that Jiseul suffers the most, as anyone unfamiliar with the Jeju Uprising will find precious little context given. Aside from a few sentences that bookend the film, it is difficult to achieve a sense of appreciation as to why the events are occurring, and what led to this point. Hints are occasionally given as to the wider conflict ongoing around the island, yet as there is little sense of scale it is difficult to determine. Yet in place of scale, Jiseul contains potent symbolism through the use of iconography and other facets of the mise-en-scene that not only convey the tragic loss of life, but also the attempts to conceal the truth. As such the power of the film lies in its intimate, raw visual aesthetics and makes Jiseul one of the most intriguing, and important, Korean films of 2012.

The monochrome palette and symbolism are highly effective

The monochrome palette and symbolism are highly effective

Verdict:

Jiseul is a powerful and harrowing account of the 1948 Jeju Uprising, with director O Muel’s monochrome palette and intense visual style adding incredible potency and realism to the true-life events. Accompanied by some wonderful cinematography by Yang Jung-Hoon, director O Muel deserves credit for challenging dominant ideology by not only attempting to create awareness of the massacre, but also for locating the source of horror internally with the Korean military. While the film suffers from lack of context for those ignorant of the Uprising, Jiseul is an exemplary independent production and one of the most important releases of 2012.

★★★★★

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Kim Yeong-ho climbs atop the rail tracks, ready for death

Peppermint Candy (박하사탕) – ★★★★★

Peppermint Candy (박하사탕)

Peppermint Candy (박하사탕)

Peppermint Candy (박하사탕) is an exceptional piece of cinema. Opening the Busan International Film Festival in 1999, it must have been uncomfortably ironic for the audience that such a prestigious Asian festival would feature such a poetically raw dissemination of Korean culture. Directed by auteur Lee Chang-dong (이창동), the film critically examines a twenty year period of Korean history, revisiting pivotal moments through the main protagonist while also psychoanalytically deconstructing his – and by extension, Korean -masculinity. Peppermint Candy is a simply breathtaking exploration of how a person’s life is forged through culture and trauma and, featuring a staggering performance from Seol Kyeong-gu (설경구), is one of great examples of the vibrant socio-cultural power of Korean filmmaking.

In 1999, a man named Kim Yeong-ho (Seol Kyeong-gu) emerges by a riverside where a group of middle aged people are having a picnic. Interestingly, members of the group recognise Yeong-ho and invite him to join them but his erratic behaviour proves too much to bear. Leaving the picnic, Yeong-ho climbs onto train tracks with the intention of suicide, yet just before the train collides he screams, “I want to go back!” Suddenly Yeong-ho begins to revisit key moments from his life – and Korean history – that forged him into the person he has become, including meeting his estranged wife Yang Hong-ja (Kim Yeo-jin (김여진), his career as a police officer, and his first love Yoon Soon-im (Moon So-ri (문소리).

Kim Yeong-ho climbs atop the rail tracks, ready for death

Kim Yeong-ho climbs atop the rail tracks, ready for death

Director Lee Chang-dong has crafted an incredible journey through exploring the life of Yeong-ho, conveying his personal development as inherently tied to the development of Korea over a twenty year period. Initially, Yeong-ho is supremely dislikable and downright weird as he crashes the riverside picnic, behaving terribly towards people who are simply attempting to welcome him. Yet from the moment Yeon-ho steps onto the train tracks, it becomes clear there is a depth to his madness. Over the course of Peppermint Candy director Lee Chang-dong peels back layer upon layer of Yeong-ho’s psychosis in a highly poetic, subtle and symbolic manner, examining how a person’s innocence is twisted by culture and forces beyond control. The train track, for example, is much more than a place for suicide as it comes to represent his path of destiny. As the train moves back in time to revisit Yeong-ho’s past it becomes his timeline, stopping at pivotal moments until the symbolic sound of the train horn conveys that it is time to move on. As such the train and track are ethereal, spiritual beings within Peppermint Candy and are beautifully poignant narrative devices.

 As the train gently takes the audience deeper into Yeong-ho’s history, a great deal of empathy is aroused as his very character is stripped bare. From the initial quick judgement that Yeong-ho is an odd fool, each turning point in his life delicately alters the rash perception to the point where genuine sympathy is evoked from his personal tragedies. When his business suffers as a result of the Asian financial crisis, when his marriage begins to fall apart, when he loses his first love; all have penetrating emotional and psychological impact on Yeong-ho, and it is utterly enthralling to behold the events that molded him into his suicidal state. Director Lee Chang-dong also masterfully ties Yeong-ho’s increasingly fractured state as inherently Korean. As well as the aforementioned financial crisis, Yeong-ho’s career in the police force during the infamous brutality of the 1980s is portrayed, in addition to his role in the 1981 Gwangju Uprising (or rather, massacre).

Yeong-ho revisits his military past, in which he took part in the Gwangju massacre

Yeong-ho revisits his military past, in which he took part in the Gwangju massacre

In each instance, the director examines not only the manner in which Korean people were brutally oppressed during the era but also how men such as Yeong-ho, who is an analogy of all Korean men during this period, were fundamentally changed into abhorrent examples of humanity. Issues such as violence and patriarchal order are interrogated in compelling fashion and conveyed not as features of masculinity, but as cultural constructs that warp the innocence of young males.

Yeong-ho’s journey into the past is also enthralling due to the phenomenal performance of Seol Kyeong-gu. Throughout the entirety of Peppermint Candy the actor is superb in articulating the emotional and psychological state of Yeong-ho with incredible sincerity. From his unhinged suicidal behaviour through to his bitter and violent 30s, from his attempts to rebuild his life following military service through to his innocence as as student, Seol Kyeong-gu is simply amazing. His performance is keenly heartfelt at every stage of Yeong-ho’s life, so much so that his journey of self-discovery lingers long after the film has come to an end. His victories at the Grand Bell Awards and Blue Dragon Awards in 2000 attest to his prowess, and are completely deserved.

Yeong-ho and his first love Soon-im share a tender moment

Yeong-ho and his first love Soon-im share a tender moment

Verdict:

Peppermint Candy is undoubtedly one of the modern classics of Korean cinema, and is an exceptional entry by director Lee Chang-dong. The story is equal parts poetic and subtle as well as raw and compelling, as the emotional and psychological layers of main protagonist Yeong-ho are gradually peeled away. In doing so the director intricately examines the notions of contemporary Korean masculinity, yet it is made even more enthralling through the link with defining moments in Korean history. As such, Peppermint Candy is a journey both personal and national, and coupled with the phenomenal performance of Seol Kyeong-gu, is an absolute must-see.

★★★★★

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The students begin their road trip full of optimism

Sunshine Boys (1999, 면회) – ★★★☆☆

Sunshine Boys (1999, 면회)

Sunshine Boys (1999, 면회)

Debuting at the 2012 Busan International Film Festival, and invited to the 2013 Rotterdam International Film Festival for its international premiere, independent drama Sunshine Boys (1999, 면회) has already garnered noteworthy attention and acclaim. Helmed by director Kim Tae-gon (김태곤), the story follows Sang-won (Shim Hee-seop (심희섭) and Seung-joon (Ahn Jae-hong (안재홍) as they embark on a road trip to visit pal Min-wook (Kim Chang-hwan (김창환), who is currently serving  mandatory military service in Busan. As the three reunite for the first time since high school, they discover that events have changed them into quite different people than they remember. Learning about each other once more, the friends meet pretty tea house worker Mi-yeon (Kim Kkobbi (김꽃비) and the night unfolds in a different way than they planned.

The students begin their road trip full of optimism

The students begin their road trip full of optimism

Director Kim Tae-gon, who also co-wrote the screenplay with Jeon Go-woon, employs a social-realist aesthetic throughout the film that makes the encounters full of genuine tension and irony-fueled exchanges. The awkwardness between Sang-won and Seung-joon as they drive together is a mixture of comical and poignant as they attempt to rediscover each other, yet can only use their past as a basis. Similarly when Min-wook is reprimanded by a superior officer only slightly older than him, the results are uncomfortable yet humorous in the attempt to assert dominate masculinity amongst young men. Throughout, the director also employs filters that drain the color from the images, creating a bleak atmosphere that connotes the stage in which the threesome find themselves; victims of the Asian financial crisis of the late ’90s, all three friends are attempting to cope with their current situations that stand in stark contrast to the bright future promised from their days in high school.

Sang-won, Min-wook and Seung-joon learn about each other once again

Sang-won, Min-wook and Seung-joon learn about each other once again

As the emphasis is squarely placed on realism, it takes quite some time for the narrative to get moving, and for much of the opening Sunshine Boys is filled with awkward character moments rather than impetus. A catalyst does however arrive in the form of a letter from Min-wook’s girlfriend Esther stating her desire to break up, and who has charged Seung-joon with its delivery. Initially outraged, Sang-won and Seung-joon continually debate on whether they should hand over the letter and much of the story revolves around their indecision. Yet the film is very much Sang-won’s story as a shy and moderately gloomy university student who is forever changed by the events of the trip. The sullen young man hints at his problems without stating them outright, resulting in an often unemotional central protagonist but one that is easily relatable.

The real test for Sang-won arrives in the form of pretty tea house worker Mi-yeon, who invites him and his pals for a drink at her workplace. Director Kim Tae-gon does a great job of making the establishment foreboding with great use of lighting, isolating the tea house as disreputable, emphasizing the naivety of the young men who enter despite the warning signs. As they drink alcohol the protagonists loosen and they start to reveal more about their issues, granting greater insight into their insecurities and motivations. Yet it is Mi-yeon,wonderfully performed by Kim Kkobbi, that steals the limelight within Sunshine Boys as it is her character that provides compulsion for all involved with her suggestive smiles, probing questions and provocative body language. Mi-yeon is an intriguing character who is simultaneously innocent yet worldly-wise, attractive yet dangerous, and it is largely due to her that the film is so compelling.

The three friends meet pretty tea house worker Mi-yeon

The three friends meet pretty tea house worker Mi-yeon

Verdict:

Sunshine Boys is a highly interesting independent drama about three friends attempting to discover each other once again, after their lives have taken unexpected courses. Director Kim Tae-gon does a great job in featuring awkward, ironic moments in the lives of young men, which are granted extra potency with the application of social-realist aesthetics and drained color palette. The story does however take a very long time in establishing itself and as such the general sense of impetus suffers. Yet the wonderfully understated performance by Kim Kkobbi as Mi-yeon puts Sunshine Boys back on track, making the film an interesting journey of maturation.

★★★☆☆

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Firefighter captain Kang Yeong-gi races to battle the blaze

The Tower (타워) – ★★★☆☆

The Tower (타워)

The Tower (타워)

Director Kim Ji-hoon (김지훈) has a lot riding on disaster film The Tower (타워). His last film, sci-fi monster movie Sector 7, was reviled by critics and audiences alike and became one of the worst flops in Korean cinematic history (although it went on to secure the highest gross for a Korean film in neighbouring China). As such, questions involving his next project The Tower lingered. Had director Kim Ji-hoon managed to develop his visual aesthetics, and more complex characters and plots, into a more convincing, compelling film? The answer is, perhaps unsurprisingly, yes and no.

The Tower undoubtedly boasts some of the most impressive visual effects work ever produce within a Korean film, to the extent that it’s comparable with Hollywood productions. The sets and the stunt work are genuinely enthralling, combining to produce edge-of-the-seat sequences that are incredibly engaging and convey a palpable sense of realism and danger. That said, the movie only contains an emotional core due to the performance of Seol Kyeong-gu (설경구) as firefighter captain Kang Yeong-gi as the vast majority of protagonists are one-dimensional stereotypes, while the actors that portray them overact to an almost ludicrous degree.

It’s Christmas Eve in Seoul, and that means only one thing for the luxurious Sky Tower buildings – an exclusive Christmas party amongst the social elite of the country. Overseeing the operations are operations manager Lee Dae-ho (Kim Sang-kyeong (김상경), and the object of his affections catering manager Seo Yoon-hee (Son Ye-jin (손예진), who become closer as the deadline approaches. As the party grows nearer safety concerns begin to amount, yet are disregarded with plans forced through by the rich and powerful. When helicopters begin to circle the buildings creating a snow effect, the high winds force one of the choppers into a tower causing a fiery explosion and cutting off all exits for the patrons. Springing into action, firefighter Captain Kang Yeong-gi (Seol Kyeong-gu (설경구) leads his men, including joker Byeong-man (Kim In-kwon (김인권) and rookie Lee Seon-woo (Do Ji-han (도지한), into the building to hunt for survivors.

One of the towers is set ablaze from a heicopter crash

One of the towers is set ablaze from a helicopter crash

Taking huge reference from 1974’s The Towering Inferno as well as the 9/11 twin tower attacks, director Kim Ji-hoon’s The Tower is an exciting and exhilarating experience. Post-production on the disaster film has taken around two years to complete and it shows; the explosions, destruction, and stunts are convincing throughout as fires rage and people die in tragic and horrifying fashion. The film undoubtedly sets a new standard of quality in Korean cinema for special effects prowess, as helicopters collide, concrete fractures underfoot, and fire engulfs everything in its path. Interestingly, the cause of the disaster is akin to Titanic in that the sheer arrogance of those who dwell in Tower Sky, continually referring to their location as ‘heaven’ and close to God, are conveyed as the symbolic perpetrators of the destruction, adding something of a morality play to the devastation.

Yet the visual aesthetics are nothing without an emotional core, and in this respect The Tower somewhat succeeds. The introduction of the various protagonists working and dwelling within Tower Sky is a highly mixed affair, generally featuring stereotypes. Interesting members such as operations manager Lee Dae-ho and daughter Ha-na, and catering manager Lee Yoon-hee, are compelling but receive little character development due to unimportant tertiary characters entering the narrative that have no real impact. Also, the extreme overacting by most of the cast is an enormous irritation, notably Kim Seong-oh (김성오) as chef In-geon who is intended as comic relief but is infuriating throughout. The saving grace of The Tower comes in the form of firefighter Captain Kang Yeong-ri, who provides much needed heart and soul to the rescue attempt as he gallantly battles blazes, disintegrating floors, and corrupt officials in his single-minded quest to get the survivors to safety. Wonderfully performed by actor Seol Kyeong-gu, the captain’s mission is the driving force of the film and is genuinely enthralling to watch, with his sense of duty and responsibility simultaneously sincere and poignant.

Firefighter captain Kang Yeong-gi races to battle the blaze

Firefighter captain Kang Yeong-gi races to battle the blaze

Captain Kang Yeong-ri is also joined by the humorous Byeong-man and newbie Lee Seon-woo in the search for survivors. Byeong-man provides comic relief, generally in the form of silly frivolity, which is mildly amusing in breaking up serious scenes. Lee Seon-woo however is one of the more intriguing characters, as he undergoes a transformation from reluctant rookie to employing skills learnt from Captain Kang, and his development is highly enjoyable. The three fire fighters routinely feature in very impressive stunt work throughout the film, and their successes and failures do not fail to induce an adrenaline rush.

Operations manager Lee Dae-ho also partakes in stunts, as the ‘everyman’ forced to find courage to protect his makeshift family. Such scenes are also entertaining, although they often push the suspense of disbelief to its limits, yet are engaging nonetheless. Unfortunately due to the vast number of supporting roles, Lee Dae-ho’s burgeoning relationship with Seo Yoon-hee is largely overlooked, begging the question why such talented big name stars as Kim Sang-kyeong and Son Ye-jin receive so little screen time. However, despite being underdeveloped their relationship does provide impetus to certain scenes as well as some tender moments.

Those remaining desperately fight for survival

Those remaining desperately fight for survival

Verdict:

The Tower is an extremely visually impressive disaster film, and a return to form for director Kim Ji-hoon. The special effects and stunt work are some of the best ever produced within a Korean film, and certainly on par with Hollywood films of a similar ilk, conveying a genuine sense of danger throughout. That said, the vast number of stereotypical supporting roles bog the story down resulting in an overall lack of character development and audience investment. Lucky then that Seol Kyeong-gu enters the fray as Captain Kang Yeong-ri, who single-handedly lifts the film into a compelling and emotional story, making The Tower an enjoyable entry into the genre.

★★★☆☆

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Gyeong-sun and Su-jin attempt to flee from Dok-bul

No Blood No Tears (피도 눈물도 없이) – ★★★☆☆

No Blood No Tears (피도 눈물도 없이)

No Blood No Tears (피도 눈물도 없이)

It goes without saying that the films of Quentin Tarantino have left an indelible impression on the cinematic landscape. This is especially the case with Pulp Fiction, whereby the amalgamation of extreme violence, pop culture, and variety of narrative threads have invited a host of admirers and homages. Director Ryoo Seung-wan (류승완) fits both areas, consistently expressing similar themes throughout his body of work albeit with his own Korean flair. Indeed, his nickname as ‘the Korean Tarantino’ is not entirely undeserved.

No Blood No Tears (피도 눈물도 없이), director Ryoo Seung-wan’s second feature, has clearly taken gangster films such as Pulp Fiction and Snatch as huge sources of inspiration, featuring a multi-strand narrative with an assortment of colorful low lives and gangsters seeking the perfect score. Being a Korean production, there is also a great deal of Confucian ideals and martial arts added to the mix for good measure. It’s a largely enjoyable ensemble piece featuring some wonderful character actors, yet the disparate narratives never coalesce convincingly, in addition to the vast number of protagonists, tonal imbalances, and blatant misogyny that permeates throughout the story.

Gyung-sun (Lee Hye-yeong, 이혜영), a down-on-her-luck taxi driver, is continually harassed by loan sharks seeking debt collection and the police for her criminal past. While attempting to forge a life for herself despite awful passengers, her taxi is hit by Su-jin (Jeon Do-yeon, 전도연) who is on the run from her violent boyfriend Dok-bul (Jeong Jae-yeong, 정재영). A former boxing champion, Dok-bul works for the aging local kingpin KGB, or Kim Geun-bok (Sin Goo, 신구) whose power base is unchallengeable particularly while flanked by martial arts master the Silent Man (Jeong Doo-hong, 정두홍). Unknown to KGB however, is that everyone around him is conspiring to steal his fortune, even local karaoke worker Chae Min-su (Ryoo Seung-beom, 류승범).

Gyeong-sun has trouble with loan sharks and the police

Gyeong-sun has trouble with loan sharks and the police

One of the great strengths of No Blood No Tears is the gritty, violence-fueled world of Incheon inhabited by the array of gangsters and charlatans. The aesthetics employed by director Ryoo Seung-wan, such as the wonderful use of low key lighting, convey an urban landscape fraught with danger and violence, while the dilapidated arenas in which confrontations occur lends a disturbing sense of realism to the proceedings. Within this world are a vast number of protagonists, each with their own foibles and agendas, all connected with one another through various relationships and each strand unfolds in a thoroughly entertaining manner. As such comparisons with Pulp Fiction are inevitable, particularly as director Ryoo Seung-wan uses similar non-linear editing techniques in which to orchestrate events, although he later succumbs to traditional linear storytelling. Unfortunately however, with so many characters the director doesn’t manage to balance the vast number of plot threads and therefore underdevelopment of key personnel is a profound issue throughout the film. This is acutely the case with indebted taxi driver Gyeong-sun and wannabe pop starlet Su-jin, who are the masterminds behind the heist but are forced to the sidelines while focus is granted to the male roles. The intention is clearly a Thelma and Louise style narrative whereby two unlikely women join forces to take on a male-dominated world, yet as well as lack of development the film contains some frankly awful misogyny as Gyeong-sun and Su-jin are repeatedly beaten to an absurd degree by the men around them.

Stylised violence is one of director Ryoo Seung-wan’s greatest assets, and when not used to abuse the female characters, it is a genuine delight. Of particular note is the confrontation between retired boxer Dok-bul and the Silent Man, which features some lightning fast and bone crunching moves made all the more powerful through utilizing the gritty realism of Incheon’s underworld. The blood, sweat, and deft use of light and shadow are exhilarating to behold as the men fight for their lives – and their stake of the money – within the battleground of a dog fighting cage, and is a testament to the director’s skill and flair for action sequences.

KGB gives orders to Dok-bul, while flanked by the Silent Man

KGB gives orders to Dok-bul, while flanked by the Silent Man

The violence is also accompanied by a healthy dose of black comedy through humorous use of bad language and bizarre confrontations between the eccentric characters. While not as sophisticated as the films which inspired it, the comedy within No Blood No Tears is still highly enjoyable. A large amount of humor is left to the director’s brother, Ryoo Seung-beom, as dim-witted karaoke worker Chae Min-su. Unfortunately this tends to be slapstick in nature, although there are laugh-out-loud moments to be had. Most of the comedy appears through the double-crosses and surprise encounters as everyone attempts to outsmart each other and disappear with the money, and the quick pace as events unfold is entertaining. It is, however, difficult to be fully invested in the antics as Gyeong-sun and Su-jin tend to have little involvement in the robbery despite their central roles in the film, while villainous thug Dok-bul seems to emerge as an anti-hero of sorts, only for things to later reverse in an attempt to wrap all the narrative threads up nicely. As such, while certainly enjoyable, the finale is lacking in compulsion making the film somewhat hollow and bittersweet as the credits begin to role.

Gyeong-sun and Su-ji attempt to flee from Dok-bul

Gyeong-sun and Su-jin attempt to flee from Dok-bul

Verdict:

No Blood No Tears is a gritty, urban tale of gangsters and charlatans in a Korea-meets-Pulp Fiction style. Director Ryoo Seung-wan has crafted a world of danger and violence with expert use of lighting and environments, while his trademark of stylized action is exhilarating to behold. Yet the unbalanced narrative and lack of character development due to the enormous cast results in a lack of investment, particularly with the central female roles, who suffer from awful misogynistic abuse throughout the film. No Blood No Tears is ultimately an enjoyable, though uneven, gangster romp.

★★★☆☆

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Jun-seo and Hyung-sook have an unspeakably strong bond as their overcome adversity

Bittersweet Joke (미쓰 마마) – ★★★★☆

Bittersweet Joke (미쓰 마마)

Bittersweet Joke (미쓰 마마)

The lives of single mothers are complex to say the least. In Korea, single mothers face more than the challenges of raising a child alone, potential paternity suits and holding down a job. Due to the incredibly conservative, and highly patriarchal culture, they must also contend with a society that continually treats them as ‘unethical’ and ‘fallen’ women. News agencies, for example, often blur faces and change voices when interviewing single mothers, the same measures applied when profiling criminals. The sad fact that many of the women ask for such identity protection highlights the prejudice that exists and the severe impact it has on their daily lives.

Director Paik Yeon-ah (백연아) addresses such discrimination in her documentary Bittersweet Joke. The directors intention is to convey a more developed perspective of the lives of single mothers – their happiness, their challenges, their strengths – and she wildly succeeds. Throughout the documentary director Paik Yeon-ah perfectly captures the positivity of her subjects, emphasising their hopes and dreams that co-exist with the role of mother. The subjects themselves are also incredible well chosen, simultaneously highly compelling and poignant. While deeper issues of accountability of absent fathers and social intolerance are unfortunately only briefly touched upon, Bittersweet Joke is a positively charged documentary that presents single mothers as highly capable women and is unfailing uplifting.

Single mothers discuss their hopes and raising children, and the difficult subject of men

Single mothers discuss their hopes and raising children, and the difficult subject of men

Bittersweet Joke moves between documenting the lives of two different single mothers, Hyun-jin and Hyung-sook, and discussions about the challenges that face them with other women, notably their friend Ji-young. This editing technique, as well as the directorial style displayed by Paik Yeon-ah, are exemplary in focusing on the issues affecting single mothers as they naturally enter their lives, as well as debating them in greater depth with friends in a similar position. For example, Hyun-jin desperately wants the father of her child to re-enter their lives yet is continually disappointed; this then moves on to a later discussion in a coffee shop where Hyun-jin and Ji-young dispute whether a man is necessary at all in child rearing. This method allows for brevity and lightheartedness, as while challenges appear poignantly they are often dealt with in a quick and humourous fashion, and discussed in hindsight with laughter. All the single mothers are represented in such a manner, as they overcome difficulties with sheer willpower and humour, finding comfort and solidarity in the sisterhood of other women in similar situations.

Director Paik Yeon-ah even explores the importance of language within Bittersweet Joke, as within Korean language ‘unwed mother’ and ‘single mother’ contain quite different connotations. ‘Unwed mother’ is an unflattering term that describes women who couldn’t get married, whereas ‘single mother’ connotes a woman who has chosen not to marry. Within Korean culture the institution of marriage is still highly regarded, and as such the term ‘unwed mother’ is much more commonly used within the media and society, regardless of the offensive meaning. Director Paik wisely uses her subjects to explore such cultural themes within their daily routines, as opposed to forcing the message, and allows the audience to witness the prejudice as it naturally unfolds in their lives. As such audience sympathy is strongly evoked as both mother and child are subjected to offenses they must routinely endure.

Jun-seo and Hyung-sook have an unspeakably strong bond as they overcome adversity

Jun-seo and Hyung-sook have an unspeakably strong bond as they overcome adversity

Bittersweet Joke would not be so interesting if not for the three women at the center of the film. All three are quite different in terms of personality, which makes how each situation is dealt with a fascinating character study in addition to conveying the lives of single mothers. This philosophy is also apparent in the debates that follow, as each mother approaches a challenge or future ambition from an alternative perspective, allowing for highly interesting discussions to occur.

Hyun-jin is a sweet natured romantic who wants the traditional notion of family for herself. She is prepared to forgive her ex-lover if he returns despite everything, and uses make-up and nice clothes to try and entice him back. Her daughter Tae-hee also exemplifies Hyun-jin’s desire for perfection, as her daughter’s name is the same as a beautiful actress. Meanwhile Hyung-sook is a strong-willed and active feminist, fighting for women’s rights and attempting to change cultural ignorance. Her intelligence has also produced cynicism, as while she fights for her son Jun-seo to have a relationship with his father she has generally given up on men. The contrast between such two different single mothers, and how they develop over the course of the documentary, is the genuine triumph of the film as the journey that each woman undertakes is compelling and nuanced. It’s also enjoyable to see Hyun-jin and Hyung-sook bounce ideas off of Ji-young and other friends, adding further perspectives to already complex areas. Yet often when such important features are introduced, due to director Paik’s need to keep light-hearted momentum, greater depth goes amiss as with the accountability of absent fathers. Otherwise, Bittersweet Joke is a wonderful exploration of the issues facing single mothers in contemporary Korea.

The prejudice children receive is also explored

The prejudice children receive is also explored

Verdict:

Bittersweet Joke is wonderful documentary about the challenges facing single mothers in Korea. Director Paik Yeon-ah has produced an informative and entertaining film, one with an important social message that is allowed to unfold naturally throughout the course of the mothers’ lives while also debating issues from alternative perspectives. The light-hearted momentum is enjoyable and, while greater depth would have been nice in certain areas, the compelling subjects and vitality in which the single mothers are presented is uplifting and life-affirming.

★★★★☆

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Soon-yeon looks after her sickly younger sibling

Barbie (바비) – ★★★★☆

Barbie (바비)

Barbie (바비)

Director Lee Sang-woo (이상우) has earned the moniker of the ‘ogre of independent cinema’, a title which he is interestingly in favor of. The titles in his filmography attest to his desire to explore controversial subjects, notably Mother is a Whore (엄마는 창녀다) (2009) and Father is a Dog (아버지는 개다) (2010), both of which scrutinize the Korean family unit. As such, the influential director’s films are fascinating insights into taboo subjects often ignored by mainstream cinema.

With Barbie, the topic of international adoption is broached yet throughout the narrative director Lee Sang-woo also examines the concept of the ‘American dream’, the materialism within Korean society, and the poverty and human rights abuses that impact those living on the fringes of contemporary society. The film is a fascinating perspective on such an array of controversial subjects and, while it does takes some time to establish the story, Barbie is an incredibly compelling and poignant production.

Soon-yeong  (Kim Sae-ron (김새론) and her sickly younger sister Soon-ja (Kim Ah-ron (김아론), live with their mentally ill father on the coast of Pohang city. Life is extremely difficult for the family, and while Soon-yeong diligently takes care of everyone her sister dreams of escape. Their uncle Mang-taek  (Lee Cheon-hee (이천희) exploits them all in running his coastal motel where drunks and vagrants frequent. Yet everything changes when Mang-taek’s associate, an American named Steve (Earl Jackson) arrives with his daughter Barbie (Cat Tebo) with an offer to take Soon-yeong back to the USA for ‘a better life’. With the family thrown into chaos, and Steve’s motivations becoming increasingly unclear, Soon-yeong and Soon-ja must make decisions that will change them forever.

Soon-yeon, Soon-ja and their father have their lives turned upside down by Mang-taek

Soon-yeon, Soon-ja and their father have their lives turned upside down by Mang-taek

The world of Barbie  – the coastal area of Pohang City – is expertly constructed as a nihilistic purgatory by director Lee Sang-woo. The bleakness of the surroundings and the poverty that afflicts Soon-yeon’s family is palpable, while the vagrants and sexual predators that move in and out of their lives bring a genuine sense of danger to their well-being. The director constantly challenges the family with the society and culture that surrounds them, allowing for a slow-paced yet highly interesting examination of those struggling to survive in contemporary Korea. With no mother and a mentally ill father, it’s down to Soon-yeon to take on the roles of mother for her sibling Soon-ja, as well as wife and bread-winner as she sells home-made accessories and prepares meals. Yet the real tragedy lies in the fact her efforts are never appreciated, as her father cannot articulate his affection while Soon-ja has grown to despise the life into which she has been born, fantasizing of an escape of make-up and pretty dresses. Such protagonists are complex and acutely difficult to portray, yet the casting of real-life sisters Kim Sae-ron and Kim Ah-ron is an absolute masterstroke. The two young actresses are simply wonderful in conveying not only their poverty-stricken lifestyle, but also how it has forged them into very different beings. Kim Sae-ron, who has honed her talent through films such as The Man From Nowhere and Neighbors, is startlingly poignant throughout Barbie as her indomitable spirit overcomes the heartache before her. Yet younger sister Kim Ah-ron continually threatens to steal the show with her vehement bitterness towards those around her and the desperate attempts to make her fantasy of becoming a princess a reality. However, Soon-ja’s poor health always brings her back to the homestead and Soon-yeon’s care, adding further layers of nuance in exploring the family unit.

Soon-yeon looks after her sickly younger sibling

Soon-yeon looks after her sickly younger sibling

The notion of escape is ultimately provided by uncle Mang-taek, and his associate Steve. Mang-taek is a shockingly awful parental figure due to his abusive language and the manner in which he treats the young girls, bullying and insulting them to get what he wants. His awareness of their plight, and his refusal to share the burden, adds further animosity to his untrustworthy nature. His relationship with Steve is complex to say the least, with the two secretive men disliking and reviling yet needing one another, allegorizing the nature of Korean and American ties. While Mang-taek curses Steve with racial slurs and offenses under his breath, Steve openly displays his detest of Korea in a similarly offensive fashion, highlighting their mutual dislike and lack of cultural understanding yet are forced to work together. Furthermore, director Lee Sang-woo continually emphasises the wealth gap between them through contrasting the luxurious arenas in which Steve and daughter Barbie inhabit, with the extreme poverty occupied by Soon-yeon’s family. Hope appears, however, through the burgeoning friendship between Soon-yeon and Barbie. While they cannot communicate there is an unspoken mutual respect which the director uses to explore the generational ideological differences.

The crux of Barbie’s narrative is the adoption of Soon-yeong by Steve, yet her friendship with his daughter angers him to an unreasonable degree. The plot takes an incredibly long time to explore why this is the case, yet when it finally arrives the film shines as one of the most compelling and poignant pieces of independent cinema of 2012. The contrast between Soon-yeon, who wishes to stay, and Soon-ja, who wishes to go, is central in exploring the concept of the Korean family as well as the dream of America as a land of opportunity and escape. The bittersweet nature of both philosophies are wonderfully conveyed by director Lee Sang-woo, and his approach leaves a lasting and indelible impression.

Soon-ja dreams of America as an escape from poverty

Soon-ja dreams of America as an escape from poverty

Verdict:

Barbie is a highly compelling and poignant drama from director Lee Sang-woo that explores an incredible array of social issues within contemporary Korea. As with the director’s previous work the focus is squarely on interrogating the family unit, yet the inclusion of international adoption allows for an expansion in highlighting a variety of socio-cultural themes and issues. While it takes the film quite some time to get going, Barbie serves as a powerful reminder of the issues facing those in poverty and leaves an indelible impression.

★★★★☆

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My P.S. Partner (AKA Whatcha' Wearin'?) (나의 P.S. 파트너)

My P.S. Partner (AKA Whatcha Wearin’?) (나의 P.S. 파트너) – ★★★☆☆

My P.S. Partner (AKA Whatcha' Wearin'?) (나의 P.S. 파트너)

My P.S. Partner (AKA Whatcha’ Wearin’?) (나의 P.S. 파트너)

Mainstream Korean romantic comedies are, generally speaking, quite innocent. Shy glances caused from an accidental meeting? Check. The embarrassment caused from accidental skin-to-skin contact? Check. The man carrying his injured loved one to safety whilst crying? Check, check, check.

Not so with My P.S. Partner (나의 P.S. 파트너). The film attempts to take a more contemporary, and certainly more open, approach to the highly cliched genre. While the film is squarely light-entertainment, it is also a surprisingly charming rom-com. My P.S. Partner – or the frankly awful English title Whatcha Wearin’? – strives for quirky originality through the incorporation of sexual language and events, and while it never fully achieves such heights director Byun Sung-Hyun (변성현), who co-wrote the screenplay with Kim Min-soo (김민수), has crafted an enjoyable tale of love.

Depressed and lonely, musician Hyeon-seung (Ji Seong (지성) struggles to come to terms with his break-up with long-time girlfriend So-yeon (Shin So-yul (신소율). Her new rich, handsome boyfriend only compounds his melancholy further, while his friends do little to help. Yet one evening Hyeon-seung receives a surprise phone call from a woman who initiates exciting phone sex. However the call was actually a mistake, as the woman – underwear designer Yoon-jeong (Kim Ah-joong (김아중) – intended to call her boyfriend yet misdialed. Later contacting each other through drunken anger, Hyeon-seung and Yoon-jeong begin to build a relationship over the phone, one that has the potential to develop into something special.

Lonely and depressed, Hyeon-seung consols himself with alcohol

Lonely and depressed, Hyeon-seung consols himself with alcohol

From the outset, My P.S. Partner conveys the deep desire to be bold and contemporary as a group of friends frankly, and quite explicitly, discuss sex and relationships. The writers are clearly aware of the conventions of the genre, and make their best efforts to avoid the same pitfalls through utilising more ‘adult’ content to usher in a greater sense of realism. The approach simultaneously succeeds and fails, as while the sexual conversations are more grounded in reality than the uber-conservative innocence, the tongue-in-cheek nature and the ‘performance’ of sexual dialogue is farcical. It is, however, quite amusing and feels fresh as the friends bounce sexual jokes back and forth over drinks. Wisely after such a set-up, Hyeon-seung’s plight as a singleton is quickly established yet due to the jovial nature of the film, the depth and sincerity of his sorrow is generally undermined.

The rapid and comical pacing of the opening means that it doesn’t take long for the introduction of Yoon-jeong into the narrative which, luckily, doesn’t feel especially contrived. Her sex-call is one of the highlights of the film as Director Byun Sung-Hyun plays with the notions of sex and relationships in a postmodern fashion, with cut scenes emphasising that they are both seeking something other than what the promise of sexual fulfillment offers. This, in turn, gives heart to My P.S. Partner. Rather than boy-meets-girl, Hyeon-seung and Yoon-jeong are both in pain from relationships in different ways, which is neatly explored as a critique of contemporary relationships within Korea. Yoon-jeong desperately desires to marry a man she knows is wrong for her in order to have the fairy-tale ‘wedded bliss.’ Hyeon-seung, meanwhile, is every bit the insecure and sensitive modern man, who wishes to be with someone to assuage his loneliness. Such notions are also examined through the supporting cast, each with his/her own relationship woes that adds depth to an otherwise light-hearted rom-com.

Hyeon-seung and Yoon-jeong finally decide to meet

Hyeon-seung and Yoon-jeong finally decide to meet

Despite such a fun and fresh beginning, the cliches suddenly start to appear thick and fast. The narrative problems are clearly visible, as writers Byun Sung-Hyun and Kim Min-soo begin by attempting a more original and contemporary approach, before including a multitude of cliches in the second act, only to realise their mistake in the third and attempt to pull it back to the original vision. While this doesn’t necessarily make My P.S. Partner a bad film, it’s shame that the potential wasn’t carried through the entirety of the running time. Troubles arise mainly due to Hyeon-seung and Yoon-jeong deciding to meet so early, as the initial development of their relationship over the phone is conveyed through montage. In meeting, the impetus of their journey of self-discovery is somewhat diminished although there are several quite charming moments as the two become closer. Yet for every scene where the couple develop deeper emotions, such as through music, is a scene that rings hollow such as Hyeon-seung’s attempt at chivalry due to Yoon-jeong’s vicious former-colleague. However, the jovial nature of the film is infectious and even despite being aware of such conventional silliness, they cannot help but raise a smile.

A large amount of this is due to the charisma of the lead actors. As underwear designer Yoon-jeong, Kim Ah-joong is great. She exhibits the hopes and desires of the character with energetic enthusiasm, overacting which would usually be a criticism yet in this instance highlight the vulnerability of a woman lying to herself. When Yoon-jeong’s dreams are dashed, the hurt expressed by Kim Ah-jeong is keen, although the actress works hard to keep the atmosphere upbeat throughout and often succeeds. As lovelorn musician Hyeon-seung, Ji Seong is capable and endearing. While he doesn’t have the same emotional presence as his love-interest, the actor has good comic-timing and his development is enjoyable to watch. His performance of the ‘panty song’ in the highly cliched finale is highly entertaining, as well as the jokes that unfold in yet another comical critique of Korean culture.

Hyeon-seung sings the 'panty song' for a fun yet cliched finale

Hyeon-seung sings the ‘panty song’ for a fun yet cliched finale

Verdict:

My P.S. Partner is an entertaining and enjoyable romantic-comedy, one that employs the use of sexual language and jokes to offer a fresh approach to the genre. While it succeeds slightly more than it fails, the film is also quite charismatic due to lead actors Kim Ah-jeong and Ji Seong as the unhappy lovers. Director Byun Sung-Hyun has crafted a light-hearted tale of romance that is humorous as well as containing the odd critique of contemporary relationships in Korea, making My P.S. Partner a fun mix of the current and the cliche.

★★★☆☆

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Red Maria (레드 마리아) – ★★★☆☆

Red Maria (레드 마리아)

Red Maria (레드 마리아)

The dilemmas facing women in South-East Asian countries are multitudinous. Despite the great variety of countries within the region, and regardless of the diverse cultures and heritage, each nation has one thing in common – the dominance of patriarchy. As such the role of women as wives, mothers and homemakers has been, and continues to be, difficult to shift even though increasing numbers of women have entered the workplace. Interestingly this in itself is problematic in defining the term ‘labor’ in regards to females. Traditionally the word refers to employment in exchange for money and/or trade goods, but as females occupy such diverse roles the definition is difficult to clarify.

Director Kyung Soon (경순) attempts to address the quandary through her documentary Red Maria (레드 마리아). During the course of the film, the director explores the concept of women’s labor within South Korea, Japan, and The Philippines documenting the lives of a number of females each with her own struggles. From unfairly dismissed employees and care workers, to women working in the sex trade and the homeless, director Kyung Soon seeks to convey that while each of the females within are not connected physically, the trials they endure and their strength of character unite them spiritually in the struggle against oppressive patriarchy. Such an objective is incredibly ambitious, and while this does allow for a highly interesting documentary the sheer number of participants makes the film overstretched and lacking an emotional core, while the editing and other post-production techniques also detract from the experience.

A care worker in Japan allows insight into her daily life

A care worker in Japan allows insight into her daily life

In attempting to convey the daily struggles of South-East Asian women, director Kyung Soon deserves praise indeed as it is rarely touched upon in mainstream cinema. The concept of women’s labor and it’s definition is certainly intriguing given the variety of cultures and statuses within the region. However, her desire to capture so much information is also her undoing as the documentary is, while very interesting, lacking in focus. The multitude of characters that inhabit the film also suffer the same fate as while each person is intriguing, they are given only brief segments of time before the audience is whisked off to another location and situation.

This particularly applies to the women from The Philippines. The Filipino women are far and away the greatest assets of Red Maria. Their stories are poignant and tender, and the sincerity of their emotions and their drive to continue on despite obstacles are the heart and soul of the film. The women profiled are those who have fallen outside the margins, those living in slums, working in the sex trade, and the elderly. Their stories are heart-breaking yet inspiring as they refuse to let the severity of their respective situations dampen their spirits. Scenes in which senior Filipino women describe the rape of an entire village decades before by Japanese soldiers cannot fail to shock, while the generations of women – within the same family – working in the sex trade is incredibly saddening. Likewise, the families living within the slums being forcefully evicted are compelling to say the least. Yet with each struggle there is hope due to the incredible resilience of the women involved, whether fighting for the truth and an apology, studying to change career, or even refusing to move, the Filipino women are inspiring in their strength and tenacity. These scenes also provide Red Maria with the greatest visuals throughout the film. Within the slums for example, a train passes mere inches from the abodes of those that reside there in comically stunning fashion. The senior women show the location of the mass rapes, a large red mansion in the country which is incredibly sinister and reminiscent of horror films. Their stories are the most compelling feature of Red Maria, and had director Kyung Soon continued to follow their development the documentary would be much stronger for it.

Senior Filippino women discuss past atrocities comitted by Japanese soldiers

Senior Filippino women discuss past atrocities comitted by Japanese soldiers

However, as South Korean and Japanese women are also profiled the tone of the documentary consistently changes and is quite jarring. Alternating between these locations also unfairly lessons the impact and seriousness of those in Korea and Japan. While women in The Philippines struggle to survive, the women from other countries are protesting against unfair dismissal, working as care workers or travel agents, or living in a tent in the woods. Their situations are interesting and important in emphasizing alternative forms of patriarchal oppression, but it is impossible not to compare and contrast with the more uncompromising situations faced by their counterparts.  It also doesn’t help that so little screen time is dedicated to them, nor that their innermost thoughts are not really revealed, making it difficult to empathize with the struggles they endure. There are also instances which beg for more insight that never appear, such as workers rights and governmental and police hostility towards demonstrators, the difficulties of living homeless, and being an immigrant bride. Such areas are never explored fully, to the detriment of empathizing with the plights the women face. Additionally some claims – such as South Korea not being ready to accept sex workers – are downright odd, considering the sheer number of Korean prostitutes that operate within the country.

Post-production is also an issue with Red Maria. Generally the editing is competent, yet there are several instances in which the documentary appears to be winding towards a finale only to pick up again and continue on. Scenes such as young Filipino women playing on the beach are inserted yet serve no purpose. The use of text highly detracts from the film as well, as the variety of different fonts, the occasional appearance of the director’s thoughts, and some flashy graphic work often serve to pull the audience out of the film. One of the interesting highlights of the film is the frequent recurrence of women’s stomachs which are symbolic of numerous attributes of the term ‘labor’, but oddly the text is never used to explain the director’s thoughts on this issue.

A recurring motif, a woman's stomach symbolises the diversity of the term 'labor'

A recurring motif, a woman’s stomach symbolises the diversity of the term ‘labor’

Verdict:

Red Maria is a highly interesting documentary, and director Kyung Soon deserves praise indeed for attempting to profile the subjugation of women under oppressive patriarchy in South-East Asia. Yet her desire to explore the concept of women’s labor proves to be far too broad in scope, resulting in a lack of character and debate development, as well as audience empathy. Yet it is the Filipino women who are the genuine highlight of the film, bringing incredible poignancy and inspiration to the discussion, and make Red Maria worth watching.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

Bungee Jumping of Their Own (번지점프를 하다) – ★★★★☆

Bungee Jumping of Their Own (번지점프를 하다)

Bungee Jumping of Their Own (번지점프를 하다)

Romantic dramas are one of the most highly produced genres within the Korean entertainment industry, with the films and TV dramas continual hits throughout South-East Asian countries. As such, there is enormous pressure to provide audiences with the predictable pleasures offered by the generic conventions, but to also offer something different, something fresh, to keep the story engaging.

Bungee Jumping of Their Own (번지점프를 하다) is such a film. Directed by Kim Dae-seung (김대승), the first act is a rather bland and predictable effort yet truly shines during later scenes. This is due to not only the alternative approach in exploring traditional notions of romance, but also notably the manner in which homosexual relationships are explored – and judged – within Korean society. Despite the grammatically incorrect title, Bungee Jumping of Their Own is an original and fresh take on the genre, and leaves a lasting impression long after the credits roll.

In a traditional tale of boy meets girl, university student Seo In-woo (Lee Byeong-Heon (이병헌) finds the girl of his dreams during a rainstorm. Luckily for him, In Tae-hee (Lee Eun-joo (이은주) also studies at the same institute and they develop a deep and lasting romance. However, In-woo’s mandatory two year military service approaches and on the day of his departure, Tae-hee doesn’t appear. Several years later In-woo, now married  and a father, is a teacher at a high school in Seoul. For a reason he can’t explain, he finds himself drawn to one of his male students Im Hyeon-bin (Yeo Hyeon-soo (여현수), and his repressed memories of his love with Tae-hee begin to unexpectedly resurface.

Tae-hee and In-woo meet during a rainstorm

Tae-hee and In-woo meet during a rainstorm

The opening of the film wonderfully captures the awkwardness of the first meeting between two lovers. Director Kim Dae-seung’s style, clearly influenced by his time as assistant director to Im Kwon-taek, shines through as the couple exchange nervous glances in the rain without daring to speak. In-woo’s longing to see Tae-hee again and to say something – anything – is palpable, and the intensity of his emotions are conveyed expertly through Lee Byeong-Heon’s performance. Unfortunately however, after such a compelling opening Bungee Jumping of Their Own takes a turn for the worse as the relationship between the central couple develops in a haphazard and erratic fashion, so much so that it undermines the romance altogether. Chiefly this is due to the lack of tender moments that bring Tae-hee and In-woo together naturally, as well as the editing which wildly jumps time frames to disorientating effect. In-woo is also much more of a stalker than a love-lorn young man, as he simply follows Tae-hee and waits in her classes despite studying a different subject. Therefore when the couple do finally come together it feels forced rather than passionate, although this trend does alter slightly as In-woo’s military service approaches.

Where Bungee Jumping of Their Own really comes into its own is when In-woo is an adult, teaching at a high school. Married and a father, In-woo is an excellent teacher who commands the respect of his students through mutual respect and trust. Interestingly the film shares focus between him and one his students, Hyeon-bin, who is in a similar situation with his girlfriend as Tae-hee and In-woo all those years ago. The relationship between teacher and student is developed well as both men become increasingly closer, sparking a host of rumours throughout the school as to the nature of their connection. The narrative therefore alters into an exploration of the acceptance – or more precisely, the lack of acceptance – of homosexuality. The name-calling, graffiti, and other homophobic devices employed by those within the school are genuinely unsettling, whilst at the center both In-woo and Hyeon-bin feel a mutual attraction that neither can fully explain or understand.

In-woo becomes a high school teacher in adulthood

In-woo becomes a high school teacher in adulthood

The manner in which In-woo attempts to address his desires for Hyeon-bin are a mixture of amusement, sadness and horror as he desperately seeks to assert his hetero-masculinity and retain his identity. Yet despite his efforts, In-woo’s longing for Hyeon-bin is sincere and poignant, and clearly uncontrollable. In each instance it is the incredible acting prowess of Lee Byeong-heon that conveys such potency as a man confused about his sexuality and the resurgence of past memories, with each gesture and action contributing in the conveyance of his adoration and reluctance. Indeed, one of the actor’s greatest assets is his eyes for when he looks at Hyeon-bin the pure sincerity of his love is keenly apparent, arguably much more so than during scenes with Tae-hee. While Yeo Hyeon-soo provides a competent performance as the student love interest, Bungee Jumping of Their Own is a testament to Lee Byeon-heon’s acting ability. As for Lee Eun-joo, the actress gives a radiant, almost otherworldly performance as Tae-hee. Such an approach could easily be conveyed as aloof arrogance but she grounds the shyness and reluctance of the character well and, combined with her staggering beauty, it is impossible not to be moved. The knowledge of Lee Eun-joo’s untimely death prior to watching the film also adds an air of tragedy to an already poignant romantic drama.

In-woo finds himself increasingly attracted to student Hyeon-bin

Hyeon-bin finds himself increasingly attracted to student Hyeon-bin

Verdict:

While the first act may be the stuff of traditional generic romantic dramas, Bungee Jumping of Their Own genuinely shines when it rejects such conventions and explores the notions of love through its alternative and quite original perspective. Director Kim Dae-seung conveys the majesty and romance of scenes as well as the difficulties of smaller more intimate moments, while Lee Byeong-heon is excellent as a sexually confused love-lore figure. Bungee Jumping of Their Own is an entertaining and thought-provoking film, one which will certainly reverberate with audiences long after the final credits roll.

★★★★☆

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