Reviews – Page 19

The gay community enjoys a lavish finale

July 29, 2012February 1, 2015

Two Weddings and a Funeral (두 번의 결혼식과 한 번의 장례식) – ★★★☆☆

Two Weddings and a Funeral (두 번의 결혼식과 한 번의 장례식)

While narrative conventions of heterosexual relationships enjoy an almost absurd level of repetition, homosexual couples are still very much a rarity in world cinema. This is especially so in Korea, where homosexuality has only in recent times considered to even be in existence. In a culture predicated on the importance of marriage, the traditional family unit, and the continuation of bloodlines, Korea has – as with other countries – struggled to accept gay culture within itself.

This is precisely the situation tackled by first time director Kim Jo Kwang-su (김조광수) who, upon discovering the extreme lack of ‘queer’ movies in the Korean film industry, resolved to redress the balance. With Two Weddings and a Funeral (두 번의 결혼식과 한 번의 장례식) the director explores the complexity of being gay in contemporary Korea, as a gay man and lesbian woman marry to offset suspicion. The film is an interesting amalgamation of camp comedy and social issues although never manages to perfect the cohesion between the two, resulting in an enjoyably quirky yet underdeveloped romantic-comedy.

In a lovely ceremony, Min-su (Kim Dong-yoon (김동윤) and Hyo-jin (Ryu Hyeon-kyeong (류현경) are married in front of their dearest loved ones, all of whom are blissfully happy that the couple can now enjoy wedded life and the happiness that follows. Yet unbeknownst to them both Min-su and Hyo-jin are homosexual, performing the sham marriage to halt nagging parents and to help adopt an abandoned baby. While Hyo-jin’s lesbian lover Seo-yeong (Jeong Ae-yeon (정애연) lives next door, Min-su’s new boyfriend Seok (Song Yong-jin (송용진) moves into the marital home. As family members, friends and colleagues become evermore curious about Min-su and Hyo-jin’s relationship, their ruse becomes increasingly problematic with the tension threatening to destroy everything they have worked so hard to conceal.

Min-su and Hyo-jin keep up pretences to make their lives more comfortable

From the outset Two Weddings and a Funeral is a jovial affair, as Min-su explains with the use of graphics and diagrams his frustrations at being a gay Korean man, which is wonderfully juxtaposed with the sham wedding ceremony in which only a select few know the truth beneath the huge smiles. Once things settle however the film struggles to find direction, introducing Min-su’s gay friends who act as comic relief, and a troupe performance in which he is due to feature, as the only impetus for the troubled young man. It is only with the inception of Korean-American Seok that Two Weddings and a Funeral begins to take flight, exploring his and Min-su’s burgeoning relationship that must be hidden from prying eyes, which director Kim Jo Kwang-su poignantly conveys as simultaneously saddening, frightening, exciting and romantic in equal measure. Their relationship is wonderfully charming, featuring kissing and other amorous scenes that contain far greater passion than most heterosexual scenes of a similar nature, while both protagonists also experience their own different forms of prejudice and pressure to conform. Themes of traditional marriage are also humorously undermined through the unscheduled visitations of Min-su’s mother, as Hyo-jin must not only pretend to understand her husband implicitly but also adhere to the stereotypical role of the dutiful wife. As such gender politics as well as sexuality are interrogated in a thought-provoking (albeit farcical) manner.

Yet Two Weddings and a Funeral never quite knows what film it wants to be, and as such the balance between comical gay life and socio-cultural examination do not coalesce well. Min-su has, other than to stop his nagging parents, no real reason to marry and his plans are rather immature while Hyo-jin needs the marriage to help adopt an abandoned child. The decision to focus on Min-su and his gay friends results in the shocking underutilization of Hyo-jin’s incredibly important narrative arc, as the potential to show homosexuals as loving parents is wasted. Hyo-jin and lesbian lover Seo-yeong feature very little throughout the film despite their relevance, with the extensive time devoted to Min-su’s gay pals somewhat of a mystery as aside from comic relief they offer precious little else. Additionally these friends are generally woeful as they are essentially infantile stereotypical ‘queens’ rather than fully formed characters, with the overacting at times cringeworthy as they ‘perform’ gayness in a silly and irreverent manner. This is acutely ironic as the writers go to great lengths in attempting to dispel myths surrounding homosexuality yet they – and the male actors – seem unaware of what being gay truly is, aligning it with overt-feminization and transvestitism throughout the narrative on several occasions. The most prominent character in this regard is Tina (Park Jeong-pyo (박정표) who is a genuine irritation, yet during more intimate scenes where over-indulgences and ‘performing’ homosexuality are cast aside the protagonist is highly likable and conveys the potential of a route not followed. As the title suggests there are three events that take place and while the first wedding is the catalyst for the film, the funeral is predictable and the second marriage fantastical. The funeral could have spurred an incredible social drama with the married couple yet instead with limited running time remaining, the writers clearly wrote themselves into a corner and the ending, despite being jovial and in keeping with the opening, feels tacked on for the sake of brevity.

Min-su and new boyfriend Seok enjoy a date away from prying eyes

As the central couple of Two Weddings and a Funeral, Min-su and Seok – played by Kim Dong-yoon and Song Yong-jin respectively – are a delight. Neither one portrays homosexuality as a ‘performance’ and as such their sexuality and their relationship are conveyed as natural and organic. Song Yong-jin is by far the best actor in the film as he inhabits a fraught individuality, playful and innocent whilst on dates yet poignant and emotive when relaying his past. Kim Dong-yoon is much more stoic than his co-star making him less likable initially, yet he seems to loosen as time passes and his emotional scenes are competent.

The supporting cast of gay men provide occasional moments of comedy, yet are generally frustrating with their ‘performances’ of homosexuality as extremely-feminized men. As such the artifice of their acting and roles shine through and hampers the narrative, which would not be so problematic if they actually contributed to Min-su and Seok’s journey in any way. Unfortunately, aside from – ironically – creating a stage performance, they do not and their inclusion tends to detract from the main arc.

It is difficult to comment on Ryoo Hyeon-kyeong and Jeong Ae-yeon who, as long-term lesbian lovers Hyo-jin and Seo-young, are pushed to the fringes in order to focus on Min-su. While on screen both actresses are competent and convey their predicament with sincerity.

The gay community enjoys a lavish finale

Verdict:

Two Weddings and a Funeral is an interesting take on homosexuality in contemporary Korea, with a compelling central couple (who convey more romance and passion than a lot of heterosexual counterparts) and a mixture of comical sequences and socio-cultural examinations. However the disparate features never quite manage to converge as a unified whole, with a supporting cast that offers precious little while other more intriguing arcs are brushed aside. As such Two Weddings and a Funeral is generally light-hearted fare that, while enjoyable, never fulfills its potential.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

Two young children experience horror by being left alone

July 26, 2012February 1, 2015

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Horror Stories (무서운 이야기) – ★★☆☆☆

Horror Stories (무서운 이야기)

Omnibus films are something of an oddity in cinema. When interlinking narratives – or even stand alone tales – are amalgamated the different directorial styles and/or trajectories can often be jarring, resulting in the audience withdrawing from the constructed realism altogether. Yet when visions align, as with the wonderfully postmodern Grindhouse in 2007, the results can be incredible. Korean cinema (as with French) has employed the use of omnibus structures recurrently, and while most tend to fall by the wayside some, such as Five Senses of Eros, are highly interesting pieces of celluloid.

Horror Stories (무서운 이야기) attempts to resolve such creative differences through a narrative featuring a young kidnapped girl forced to tell tales of horror to her abductor. The concept is an interesting one, giving free creative reign to all five directors to make the short stories they envision. Yet despite such allowances the result is – predictably – quite mixed, although most entries tend to be lackluster examples of the genre with the exception of director Jeong Beom-sik’s (정범식) segment ‘Sun and Moon’. For this review, in the interest of fairness, each short film will be evaluated on its own merits.

A high school girl awakes to find herself gagged and bound in an unknown location, watched by a mysterious man in a cap. After promising to behave, the gag is removed and the man communicates – through writing – that he cannot sleep unless he feels the chill of horror in his blood. He instructs the girl to tell him the scariest horror stories she knows to help him sleep, but if she fails, he will create his own horror using her as his muse.

The high school girl must tell horror stories to save her life

Beginning, adjoining scenes, and finale – ★★★☆☆

Director Min Gyoo-dong (민규동) has the unenviable task of providing context for the horror stories, yet he does so competently. The beginning is suitably scary as a young girl is forced to tell stories to her kidnapper. In constructing their fraught relationship the director does well to establish the chilling demeanor of the abductor as he writes his demands rather than speak them aloud. The adjoining sequences are less so, as they each involve the girl attempting to flee, failing, and trying again leading to dull repetition. The finale also suffers in this regard as Min Gyoo-dong (민규동) seems unsure what to do with his protagonists once they are free from the narrative structure of storytelling.

Two young children experience horror by being left alone

Sun and Moon – ★★★★☆

Jeong Beom-sik (정범식) directs the first and strongest segment of Horror Stories, told from the perspective of two young children alone at home. As such the director is able to poke fun at the horror genre as the children are frightened by shadows and noises located in the homestead, mixing horror and comedy to great effect. Events take a sinister turn however when a stranger enters the home and begins chasing them, contributing to the suspense and tension as the predictable pleasures of a traditional horror movie are (somewhat playfully) conveyed. Yet the real impact of the segment lies with Jeong-Beom-sik’s contrast between real and imagined horror. The director locates genuine horror within uncompassionate corporations and the ramifications that unfold from business decisions, with the socio-cultural commentary conveying unadulterated, shocking, and highly emotive horror. However, just as the short becomes highly compelling, it unfortunately ends.

The serial killer escapes on the plane, exacting revenge

Horror Flight (AKA Fear Plane) – ★★☆☆☆

The second horror story, directed by Im Dae-woong (임대웅), is much more of a thriller than the title suggests yet regardless is a bland and contrived affair. A serial killer of young women is to be escorted by police on a flight to Seoul, but during the flight the murder escapes his shackles and indiscriminately attacks the crew. Through the segment a great number of ‘coincidences’ and logic-bending occurs in which the killer exploits to rampage through the plane, which quickly becomes tiresome. The potential claustrophobia of the plane is absent, while the inclusion of the ghost of a former victim is without meaning or purpose. The contrivances are so acute the writer clearly couldn’t find a resolution, as the segment ends abruptly.

The charismatic cannibal tastes a potential victim

Kong-ji, Pat-ji – ★★☆☆☆

Director Hong Ji-young’s (홍지영) entry is the weakest in the film, involving an attractive plastic surgeon who discovers eternal youth by eating his young brides. The narrative embodies the Cinderella-esque qualities of a wicked mother and sister, yet the over-acting is incredibly distracting as are the ridiculous hints at cannibalism that seem to go unnoticed by the protagonists. The segment does include the most visual form of torture horror, as close-ups of flesh being cut by various devices is suitably gory and unnerving. However there is no escaping the shortcomings of the narrative which is, while tongue-in-cheek, unengaging and trite.

Paranoia creeps in as all begin to wonder who is infected

Ambulance – ★★☆☆☆

The final segment of the film is helmed by brothers Kim Gok (김곡) and Kim Sun (김선), directors of 2011’s White: The Melody of the Curse (화이트: 저주의 멜로디). The narrative is concerned with a virus that has spread throughout Korea, turning the infected into zombies. A medic, police officer and driver are called to the scene of an accident where a young girl and her mother may or may not be infected, and the paranoia that unfolds in taking them to safety via an ambulance. Initially the claustrophobia of the vehicle and the increasingly disturbing atmosphere unfurls well, as the morality of leaving a comatose young girl alone for the greater good is debated. Yet the segment quickly loses impetus as the in-fighting repeatedly continues, as does stopping and starting the ambulance to jettison the possibly infected. The appearance of sprinting zombies helps to spur interest as they are the only sense of a wider context and horror, but as very little is seen of them or the devastation, their appearance is bittersweet. Blandness sets in as unoriginal ideas are rehashed, and the predictable finale does little to offset such criticism.

Can the girl satiate her abductor’s need for horror?

Verdict:

Horror Stories is, predictably, a mixed effort. While context is provided for each director to exhibit their creative prowess, the reliance on stereotypes, contrivances and predictable pleasures results in general apathy rather than scares. Only Jeong Beom-sik’s Sun and Moon deviates from this trend, and while he too exploits such traits he does so in a satirical postmodern fashion. While fans of the horror genre may find something to enjoy, Horror Stories ultimately lacks the scares that the title so promisingly implies.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews

Bodies begin mysteriously appearing in rivers, with the cause of death unknown

July 25, 2012February 1, 2015

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Deranged (연가시) – ★★★☆☆

Deranged (연가시)

Plagues unleashed upon a populace – often resulting in zombification – tend to be used as allegories of socio-cultural change in premiere examples of the horror genre, such as those by George A. Romero. Yet the realities of an incurable disease (sans monsters) are equally as horrific as such narratives edge ever-closer to a world that has experienced a variety of influenza pandemics. The 1995 thriller Outbreak, or more recently Steven Soderbergh’s critically acclaimed Contagion in 2011, emphasize the importance of following protocol and the cooperation of pharmaceutical companies in preserving the human race from deadly viruses. Less science-fiction, more science-fact.

Deranged (연가시) is writer/director Park Jeong-woo’s (박정우) attempt at conveying the brutal fury of a rampant epidemic on Korean soil, and he does an excellent job of ramping up the tension and suspense to convey the fear and panic of the country through one man’s attempt to save his family. While plot holes and the suspension of disbelief are occasionally distracting, the conjugation of skilled directing with the effective editing and musical score make Deranged a highly compelling and entertaining disaster film.

Suffering financial hardships due to terrible stock advice from his cop-brother Jae-pil (Kim Dong-wan (김동완), father-of-two Jae-hyeok (Kim Myeong-min (김명민) must perform all manner of services to keep his family afloat. Yet the pharmaceutical company Jae-hyeok works for has been reduced to little more than an administrative branch, and with little room for promotion and bills mounting, the pressure is becoming intense. As news reports begin broadcasting the mysterious deaths of people throughout the country, the authorities are at a loss to explain the phenomenon – what is known, however, are that the victims suffer an unquenchable thirst before death. As the affliction spreads akin to an epidemic, Jae-hyeok begins noticing the symptoms of the illness within his family, forcing him and Jae-pil to set aside their differences and race against time to find a cure before it’s too late.

Bodies begin mysteriously appearing in rivers, with the cause of death unknown

Deranged is largely a success due to the well-balanced script, which focuses on the characterisation of those affected whilst never losing sight of the national scale of the event. In depicting scenes of government officials and scientists scrambling to do something – anything – to halt the spread of the epidemic and generally making terrible decisions, writer/director Park Jeong-woo consistently places the ramifications of such verdicts on the nuclear family at the center of the narrative, intelligently constructing reasons for deviating away from the central protagonists yet providing further impetus. As such, the removal of cell phones from the infected to halt criticism on social networks may well be in the government’s favour, but the lack of communication with loved ones makes the situation unbearably intense and emotional for those afflicted. Park Jeong-woo also never allows the stakes to be forgotten, skillfully constructing horrific sequences of mass suicide as well as more intimate individual death scenes, wonderfully edited to provide riveting-but-brief glimpses of the horror yet still allows enough mystery to compel audiences for more.

Such sequences would be meaningless without the attention bestowed upon Jae-hyeok, his wife Kyeong-soon (Moon Jeong-hee (문정희) and their two children. Jae-hyeok is, at least initially, an unlikeable protagonist as he continually praises those taking advantage of his financial situation yet vents his frustrations on his innocent family. However as the situation escalates the universal theme of a father desperately attempting to protect his family is fully exploited, and as such his character flaws tend to fall to the wayside. While somewhat limited in the role of wife and mother, Kyeong-soon also personifies the protective mother and her inner conflict of desire vs. responsibility is equally as compelling as Jae-hyeok’s race against time.

What makes Deranged stand out against other examples of the genre is the social commentary, which is equal parts subtle and heavy-handed. As is usually the case, money and greed are vital issues within the narrative both at personal and governmental levels; however what is interesting about Deranged is the way in which it is linked to suicide. It is no secret that Korea has the highest suicide rate in the OECD, yet it’s a social theme that is rarely interrogated cinematically. With Deranged, director Park Jeong-woo specifically links money with suicide, squarely positioning capitalist greed and the desire for commodities as the source of horror in Korean society. Sequences in which the populace race desperately to kill themselves are as horrifying as they are senseless, with the anguish of those attempting to stop them keenly felt. The epidemic, the director posits, is greed.

Jae-hyeok’s wife and children begin exhibiting the signs of the illness

In terms of performance, Kim Myeong-min as financially-challenged Jae-hyeok is very much the center of the film. He is an ‘action hero father’, a man willing to do everything to save his family whether from monetary woes or the sweeping epidemic. What he seemingly can’t do is show affection to his family, making the protagonist quite unfavourable particularly in the first act. Kim Myeong-min is highly competent in conveying such frustrations throughout, from his subservient role with superiors to venting annoyance to family and friends, however his rather unemotional behaviour with wife Kyeong-soon detracts from the urgency his mission as family saviour should contain.

Ironically it is Jae-hyeok’s long-suffering wife, played by Moon Jeong-hee, that provides the heart of the film due to her close relationship with the children and her internal conflict of being strong for their sake. While she occasionally slightly overacts, Moon Jeon-hee’s emotive style of acting contributes greatly to convey the severity of events and provides a much greater sense of the importance of love than her co-star. In many respects, it is Moon Jeong-hee’s performance that not only conveys the morality of the narrative but is also the most prominent in the film.

As cop Jae-pil, and his scientist wife Yeon-joo, Kim Dong-wan (김동완) and Lee Honey (이하늬) perform competently despite their secondary supporting roles. They seem to exist within the film largely to allow the narrative to explore the proceedings within law enforcement and laboratories, acting as a moral compass within each institution that is heard but ignored. As such they are highly effective in providing information and outrage in equal measure, as well as in halting contrivances that would glaringly exist without their inclusion. Although somewhat limited, each actor performs well and help to spur the narrative forward at a thrilling pace.

Jae-hyeok must overcome all manner of obstacles – including the panic-stricken public – to save his family

Verdict:

A compelling and highly entertaining science-fiction/horror blend, Deranged is a success due to the emphasis on characterisation and a fear that is much more based in reality than imagination. While certain plot holes appear, the directing, editing and musical score combine to produce a great thriller underpinned by a keen socio-cultural message, making Deranged one of the better disaster films to emerge from the Korean film industry.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

Yeo-ri (여리) is a lonely and isolated woman due to the apparitions

July 24, 2012February 1, 2015

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Spellbound (AKA Chilling Romance) (오싹한 연애) – ★★★☆☆

Spellbound (오싹한 연애)

As the oft-touted ‘Romance Queen’ of the Korean film industry, Son Ye-jin (손예진) has cinematically endured an incredible variety of events preventing her from fulfilling destiny with her one true love. In A Moment To Remember, she was shockingly diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease at a young age; within The Classic, she is conveyed as the reincarnated soul of her love-lorn mother. However Spellbound (AKA Chilling Romance, 오싹한 연애) offers a supernatural departure for the actress, as due to a childhood accident she has the ability to see and communicate with spirits. Understandably, the apparitions prove somewhat of an obstacle in her burgeoning relationship.

Through blending the horror, romance, and comedy genres, Spellbound attempts to offer an alternative approach to the cliched and over-saturated rom-com, employing the ghosts to poke fun at traditional notions of gender and relationships. While on occasion it succeeds, Spellbound quickly falls into the same pitfalls and stereotypes so ingrained in other examples of the genre and never fully capitalizes on the premise, resulting in a bland – and chemistry-free – addition to Son Ye-jin’s resume.

Jo-gu (Lee Min-ki (이민기) is a talented street magician, but is lacking a grand performance in which to entertain larger audiences. Upon witnessing the bleak and forlorn figure of Yeo-ri (Son Ye-jin), Jo-gu is inspired to create a horror magic act that thrills audiences in vast theaters. Yet while he and the production staff celebrate their successes, Yeo-ri constantly refrains. After a year of rejection, Jo-gu decides to investigate his muse and unwittingly stumbles upon her secret – Yeo-ri converses with spirits and her self-imposed isolation protects those around her from visitations. Yet as Jo-gu and Yeo-ri grow closer, will the ghosts prove a hinderance?

Yeo-ri is a lonely and isolated woman due to the apparitions

Spellbound is a perfectly competent piece of romantic cinema, yet therein lies the problem as the film does precious little to differentiate itself from other mediocre examples of the genre. From the (obviously staged) outset Spellbound squarely conveys itself as light entertainment and in doing so establishes the tone, protagonists and narrative well. The premise of a heroine who communes with the departed seemingly takes an age to finally appear on-screen, yet when it does director Hwang In-ho (황인호) is highly capable in constructing predictable but effective horror set pieces, and undermines them with comical farce to great effect. Yet bizarrely, just as the film finds its’ identity, the phantoms are jettisoned in favour of focus on the romantic development between Yeo-ri and Jo-gu. In doing so Yeo-ri is reduced from an isolated-yet-gifted woman who helps the recently departed, to yet another beautiful, lonely, poor woman who needs saving by a wealthy Prince Charming despite herself. Yeo-ri’s only sources of comfort are her best friend and a romantic novelist with whom she converses on the phone, however – atrocious acting aside – both woman are also singletons oblivious to the realities of love and dating. As such the three are continually posited as ‘incomplete’ as they each lack a partner. While intended as a form of comic relief, and occasionally raising the odd titter, the conversations between the threesome quickly become tiresome, although such scenes do allow for Son Ye-jin to reveal her calibre as a talented actress as she imparts her frustrations and fears to those closest to her.

The shift in focus from Yeo-ri’s extra-sensory abilities to the romance with Jo-gu would not be as jarring were it not for the fact that the pair have zero chemistry. As individuals they are generally quite entertaining, particularly when Yeo-ri helps spirits or when Jo-gu discovers the secret of the ghostly visitations with suitably farcical reactions. However when together the roles of both protagonists are effectively reduced to stereotypes and moved from one romantic set piece to the next, which while somewhat enjoyable on a surface level results in the artifice shining through at every plot development. Son Ye-jin is as charismatic as the narrative allows her to be, particularly during alcohol infused scenes, and she seemingly works hard to establish a rapport with Lee Min-ki. He, on the other hand, appears more preoccupied with appearing startled and bemused than in establishing chemistry with his co-star.

Jo-gu struggles to come to terms with Yeo-ri’s ‘gift’

As Spellbound is very much light entertainment, the performances by all involved are highly tongue-in-cheek throughout, although only a select few convey this convincingly.

Unsurprisingly Son Ye-jin rises above all the cast, although it is far removed from her best work. The actress conveys the vulnerability and inner strength of her character well, and is suitably humorous during comical scenes. Due to the set pieces Son Ye-jin is generally given little room to maneuver in which to display her acting prowess, with the exception of a telephone conversation with her two girlfriends which is heart-wrenchingly emotional. The actress conveys warmth and generosity, as she diligently attempts to create rapport with her romantic lead man, which ultimately proves unfruitful.

Lee Min-ki is competent as magician Jo-gu, performing comical scenes with great timing and conveys the farcical nature of the situations well. His over-acting is well-suited to his role as a man out of his depth and struggling to make sense of his new world, and is highly entertaining in this respect. In particular, his discovery of the ghost of a young boy and the ramifications of their meeting are a real highlight of the film. Yet the real issue with the actor is his lack of chemistry with his love interest, as he exudes a stoic coldness that functions as a barrier between them. In a romantic film such as this, and the enhanced focus on the relationship over the role of the ghosts, Lee Min-ki’s frosty exterior means that Spellbound consequently falls rather flat.

As for the supporting cast, the over-acting is a mixture between amusing and cringe-inducing. As best friend Pil-dong, Park Cheol-min (박철민) exemplifies this although his final scenes threaten to steal the film completely.

Jo-gu attempts to win Yeo-ri’s heart

Verdict:

With a promising premise, Spellbound could have been a highly enjoyable and alternative approach to the romantic-comedy. However the specters – and Son Ye-jin’s impetus – appear all too briefly, focusing on a relationship that crucially lacks romance. While it is competently directed and acted, Spellbound is ultimately a film for fans of light-hearted rom-coms.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

The cruelty and injustice of life becomes too much to endure for the friends

June 10, 2012February 1, 2015

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King of Pigs (돼지의 왕) – ★★★★☆

King of Pigs (돼지의 왕)

‘Mature animations’ have, rather unfortunately, rarely been a staple in ‘Western’ cinematic culture. ‘Mature’ has often been mistaken for ‘sexualised’ due to marketing ploys attempting to introduce the concept. Yet in ‘Eastern’ cinema mature animations have proved popular for exploring a variety of adult and socio-political themes, ideological explorations which would often require a vast budget in the live-action arena.

Through his independent feature King of Pigs (돼지의 왕), writer/director Yeon Sang-ho (연상호) has produced an exceptionally powerful social critique of Korean culture. While the limited budget is at times visible and the acting occasionally over-zealous, King of Pigs is a stark and violent examination of patriarchal and hierarchical society, as well as the role of capitalism and corruption in defining one’s existence.

As a struggling writer, Jeong Jong-seok (Yang Ik-joon (양익준) is continually frustrated in his attempts at becoming a published author. Bullied by his boss for daring to give an opinion over a piece of writing, Jong-seok has a violent encounter with his wife as a result. Storming outside to clear his head, Jong-seok receives a call from a childhood friend he hasn’t spoken to in several years, Hwang Kyeong-min (Oh Jeong-se (오정세). Meeting for dinner, the two old friends reminisce about their youth and the difficulties of living and studying in an all boys’ middle school. Yet the conversation takes a darker tone when the topic of their old mutual friend Kim Cheol (Kim Hye-na (김혜나) arises, and secrets long buried are finally revealed.

After 15 years of no contact, Kyeong-min (right) calls Jong-seok for a reunion

King of Pigs is an incredibly gritty, violent examination of the childhood years experienced by contemporary middle aged men, and pulls no punches in emphasizing the Confucian and capitalist value systems as the route of all evil in Korean society. The narrative is one of the most powerful expressions of ‘Han’ cinema in recent years as the social injustice and inequality depicted provide the protagonists with palpable angst and rage, which director Yeon Sang-ho exploits by increasing tension to such an uncomfortable degree that violence is not only a prerequisite but a virtual demand. When it does transpire, the action is beautifully cathartic as the fluid animation and camera movement weaves amongst the kicks and punches as they impact the transgressors, as much a commentary on audience desire as it is on bullying. King of Pigs is a success largely due to such well-structured sequences and the shockingly compelling narrative as it jumps between Jong-seok and Kyeong-min’s childhood years and their adult lives. While the former certainly takes precedence the consequences are conveyed in the present, adding layers of depth as the protagonists’ formative years unfold. Indeed, it is remarkable just how many social discourses are contained within the film. While bullying is rife within all cultures, the tactics employed within this particular school are not only predicated on physicality but also in wealth, age, gender, social relationships and parental influence making King of Pigs a distinctly Korean affair as the hierarchy self-perpetuates due to its Confucian heritage. As Jong-seok, Kyeong-min and Chul have precious little of the necessary attributes they are cast to the lowest ranks of the school pecking order, and the resentment that evolves and festers is startling to behold. Yet the narrative is also concerned with the private lives of the three friends, which allows the conveyance of such concepts on a societal scale as they witness misogyny, crime and corruption as the people around them seek power only to abuse it. As frustration and resentment engulf the trio, they wish desperately to alter their role as merely a ‘pig’ in the hierarchy yet are tragically aware that such a role defines them for life.

The continuous bullying forces Chul (left) to take a stand against the aggressors

However, while the narrative of King of Pigs is strong and highly symbolic, it is not without problems. While it feels an unfair point to criticize, the limited budget does occasionally appear through the animation as characters move robotically in certain scenes, particularly in sequences where a large number of people enter the frame. This is in stark contrast to the fluidity of action scenes and the difference is quite jarring and somewhat distracting.

The vocal talents of the cast are generally very competent and sincere, particularly by the actors voicing the protagonists as children. Kim Hye-na stands out in this regard as poverty-stricken delinquent Kim Cheol, who performs the array of poignant moments and aggressive events well. As adults the vocal talents have less significant screen time, yet Breathless director Yang Ik-joon conveys the tragic frustrations of Jong-seok especially well. There are moments however when the acting becomes over-zealous, notably with Oh Jeong-se as Kyeong-min who is at times is rather hysterical. Luckily the supporting cast and the strength of the narrative make sure that such moments are short-lived, as the film deftly focuses on the characterization of all the protagonists in both time periods.

The cruelty and injustice of life becomes too much to endure for the friends

Verdict:

King of Pigs is a bold, unflinching animation that portrays an incredible examination of a variety of social discourses in Korean culture. Writer/director Yeon Sang-ho has crafted a well-structured and gripping narrative with incredible depth, where the stylized violence is not only naturalized but, through the build of tension, desired. While budget limitations and over-zealous acting occasionally appear, King of Pigs is a riveting film not only in terms of the animation genre but, due to the uncompromising concept of ‘Han’ throughout, a compelling entry into Korean cinema.

★★★★☆

Reviews

Jang-saeng and Gong-gil perform their popular routines for unappreciative nobility

June 3, 2012September 7, 2015

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The King and the Clown (왕의 남자) – ★★★★☆

The King and the Clown (왕의 남자)

As a breathtaking romantic period-drama set during the Joseon dynasty, The King and the Clown is, perhaps unsurprisingly, one of the highest grossing films in Korean cinema history. However what may be surprising for some is that the romance is homosexual in nature, particularly in a culture where such relationships remain largely taboo. Yet despite such prejudice the film has not only garnered incredible critical praise and commercial success, but has also acted as something of a catalyst for a shift in ignorance largely thanks to androgynous actor Lee Joon-ki.

Two talented male minstrels – ruggedly masculine Jang-saeng (Kam Woo-seong (감우성) and delicately feminine Gong-gil (Lee Joon-ki (이준기) – are the leads in an acting troupe that perform for nobility in Joseon dynasty-era Korea. After the performances, Gong-gil is often forced into sexual slavery by their corrupt manager for extra money, sickening his partner. Unable to continue the de-humanising practice, the pair escape and depart for Seoul to earn their fortunes as performance artists and comedians in the capital city. Upon hearing of the cruel absurdities of the current ruler King Yeon-san (Jeong Jin-yeong (정진영), the duo join forces with other street performers to enact a comical tale ridiculing the King with the truths that others are too scared to tell. Their popularity is such that government officials take note, punishing them violently. However they are spared upon one condition – they must perform their mocking routine in front of the King himself, and, should he laugh, Jang-saeng and Gong-gil will be freed.

Jang-saeng and Gong-gil perform their popular routines for unappreciative nobility

The King and the Clown – or more literally translated as ‘The King’s Man’ – is an incredibly poignant and captivating film and a wonderfully colourful historical tale. This is largely due to the partnership between the highly charismatic lead protagonists who never cease to be compelling, and an extremely well-balanced script by Choi Seok-hwan (최석환) who artfully plays with pacing to provide sensitive and thought provoking scenes throughout. Characterization is central to the success of the film, providing fully-rounded roles to individuals who could easily be stereotyped by continually emphasizing their emotional complexity. Jang-saeng is a gifted athlete and performer, with an over-powering compulsion to be truthful and to upset those in power through disrespect; Gong-gil is an equally talented artist who is as adept at acting as he is beautiful, aware that both features are a blessing and a curse; even King Yeon-san, who is often described in the annals of history as the most brutal and selfish ruler in the Joseon era, is portrayed as a psychologically damaged man through childhood torment and the pressures of court. In each case, the narrative allows the protagonists the time to convey their motivations – conscious or otherwise – while the actors that portray them fully inhabit their roles and are utterly convincing whenever they appear on screen.

The concept of truth-through-performance is masterfully conveyed, recalling the likes of Shakespeare’s Hamlet of the ‘play within a play’. As such the film operates as an insightful commentary of the era, depicting the obscurity of truth that is seemingly inherent with power as well as the corruption and tyranny of those in court, through traditional cultural forms. Due to this The King and the Clown expresses a grand, ‘epic’ quality, one which is unfortunately not capitalized on by director Lee Joon-ik. The director is highly competent throughout the film, featuring some wonderful set-pieces and intimate sequences, yet he falters in conveying the grandiose scale of Joseon and the palace in particular, with an establishing shot of Seoul the only notable exception. Despite such shortcomings director Lee Joon-ik is incredibly skilled at conveying intimacy and poignancy as he visualizes the cultural flair and exhibitions with passion and verve, in conjunction with the violence and intense distress that consistently follows. The director’s representation of the homosexual relationships within the film are cautious and understated yet rather than a criticism this actually infers a more innocent and a sweet natured love, although some factions of the audience may take issue with King Yeon-san’s dalliance with Gong-gil as the product of an unresolved Oedipal complex.

The vindictive King Yeon-san and his concubine observe the performers

The vindictive King Yeon-san and his consort observe the performers

As comic performers Jang-saeng and Gong-gil, Kam Woo-seong and Lee Joon-ki are absolutely enthralling. Kam Woo-seong masterfully conveys the arrogance and audacity of the character, with his unbridled distain for those of a higher societal position palpable. The actor is wonderfully charismatic yet simultaneously tragic, traits that he exemplifies through every mannerism and facial expression with sincerity. Such a description also befits Lee Joon-ki who, as the androgynously beautiful Gong-gil, is a delight. He conveys femininity and elegance with startling conviction, with his resignation to fulfill his sexual role following the performances tender and heartbreaking. His character is as much a commentary about the manipulation of women as it is about homosexuals by those in power, and Lee Joon-ki does not disappoint in emphasizing the sheer injustice of societal inequality.

As the film’s other central protagonist, Jeong Jin-yeong is also frighteningly mesmerizing as King Yeon-san. The actor eloquently conveys the sadistically tragic nature of the ruler as he unpredictably switches emotions on a whim, portraying the leader as an underdeveloped adolescent in one breathe whilst in the next a violent and cruel man. As such Jeong Jin-yeong is fascinating to watch as the long hidden truths are revealed, for his reactions are unpredictably horrifying.

Through the performances, Jang-saeng and Gong-gil reveal truths to King Yeon-san, which often incur violence

Through their performances Jang-saeng and Gong-gil reveal truths to King Yeon-san, which often incur violence

Verdict:

The King and the Clown is an amazing tale and a wonderful journey through one of the darkest eras of the Joseon dynasty. The narrative and characterization are excellent, as is the acting by all the principal cast who never cease to be enthralling and compelling. While the directing is somewhat lacking in scale the emphasis on intimacy and poignancy makes the film and enduring classic and a testament to the creative qualities of Korean filmmakers.

★★★★☆

Reviews

May 24, 2012February 1, 2015

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As One (코리아) – ★★☆☆☆

As One (코리아)

The divide across the Korean peninsula has provided history with some of the most fascinating and horrifying accounts of human endeavour. Both the North and the South have flip-flopped between moments of sheer brutality against each other yet have also achieved poignant moments of recompense. While terrorist attacks and threats grab headlines, the strong underlying sense of nationality and ‘brother/sisterhood’ has spurred other stories of joint enterprise, family reunification and co-op sporting events that are smaller and more intimate in nature, hinting at the potential future for a united people; they are, after all, Korean.

One such tale of triumph over (ideological) adversity was obtained during the 1991 International Table Tennis Championships in Chiba City, Japan, where South Korean and North Korean table tennis players partnered to compete against the rest of the world. Brought to celluloid by director Moon Hyeon-seong (문현성), As One (코리아) flirts dangerously close with being an average TV movie for the majority of its’ running time yet manages to become an engaging and effective sports drama in the final act.

Facing off in the semi-finals during the 1990 Asian games, South Korean table tennis player Hyeon Jeong-hwa (Ha Ji-won 하지원) confronts her Northern rival Lee Boon-hee (Bae Doona 배두나), both determined to win not only for themselves but for the pride of their respective countries. Narrowly defeating her opponent, Jeong-hwa moves on to the finals but is bested by the Chinese champion (Kim Jae-hwa (김재화), nicknamed ‘The Great Wall’. As the teams prepare themselves for the 1991 Championships in Chiba City, the governments of the North and South make a surprising statement – they will combine their athletes to create a ‘Unified Korea’ team. Forced to play alongside each other, Jeong-hwa and Boon-hee must train to overcome the ideological differences between them and defeat their Chinese rivals once and for all.

The champions from the North and South unwillingly join forces

Contemporary Korean films have a reputation for being remarkably even-handed in their representation of Northern protagonists, and As One is no exception. In fact, it’s largely thanks to the balanced approach and ideological banter that the film continues to be compelling during the incredibly lackluster first and second acts. For every quip about human rights comes a retort regarding misogyny; for every representation of stoic obedience is a portrayal of thoughtless misbehaviour. Interestingly it is the Northern athletes, led by Boon-hee, who are the most sympathetic and accommodating protagonists, while those from the South are often rude, aggressive and stubborn, as exemplified by Jeong-hwa. Such a concoction of characters offer predictable pleasures, but are entertaining nonetheless.

However the contrivances of the narrative appear all too frequently and reduce the athletes into one-dimensional caricatures often found in Korean TV dramas – yet without the possibility for development – with only Jeong-hwa and Boon-hee narrowly escaping. A true story such as this means the finale is inevitably predictable, yet the decision to include a supporting cast of stereotypes with stereotypical scenarios is perplexing and detracts from the overall enjoyment. Also halting the engagement of the audience is the soundtrack, which rarely naturally enters the film. With the exception of the final act, the music is continually a distraction and is often disjointed from prior scenes.

Luckily As One manages to redeem itself during the last moments as the final matches of the tournament are thrilling. Director Moon Hyeon-seong (문현성) makes wonderful use of editing and slow-motion techniques to deliver exciting and suspense-filled moments that are riveting and adrenaline-inducing. Strangely he constructs the penultimate match as more thrilling than the final itself, with Yoo Sun-bok’s (Han Ye-ri (한예리) underdog tale an incredibly compelling part of the film, yet also employs enough different filmic techniques to make the final a powerfully emotive viewing experience. The trials faced during the final also allows for the introduction of melodrama which is wonderfully capitalized on as the two teams are forced to part ways. It is here that the acting prowess of the two talented lead actresses finally appears as their parting is both poignantly sincere and heart-wrenching, exhibiting a quality that is a testament to how important the event was for all involved.

Camaraderie initially proves difficult

Much has been reported regarding Ha Ji-won’s table tennis training by the very champion she portrays, and how her skill level potentially rivals world class athletes. Sadly, due to the rapid editing and stylization, the actress’ skill level does not fully translate into film. That said, Ha Ji-won’s passionate, determined and stubborn performance is articulated well throughout As One with her reluctance to accept her long-term rivals as partners convincing. The characterization often gives her little room to manoeuvre, however during the final act Ha Ji-won is utterly enthralling as she bids farewell to her close friend as her evolving level of grief portrays incredible emotional turmoil.

Bae Doo-na shares a similar fate as Boon-hee, who gives a more stoic-yet-understanding performance and as such is the more endearing protagonist. Her weight loss, in attempting to portray the same physique as the real Boon-hee, is quite a shocking visual as her thin frame conveys a frailty and tenderness not ascribed to others. Bae Doo-na’s physical dedication also adds potency to the trials she endures throughout the narrative, while her level-headed and thoughtful acting style present a mature and contemplative counter to Ha Ji-won. Due to Bae Doo-na’s performance the final parting conveys penetrating sincerity, making it virtually impossible not to be moved emotionally.

Out of all the supporting cast only one actress rises above the stereotypical roles bestowed upon them – Han Ye-ri. Her turn as anxious novice Yoo Sun-bok is entertaining and poignant, particularly during the penultimate game. Unfortunately her tale is somewhat faded into the backgrounded as team dynamics and political tension receive focus, yet Han Ye-ri gives a highly capable performance as the underdog achiever.

Jeong-hwa and Boon-hee achieve the unthinkable on and off the court

Verdict:

Thanks to the true story on which it’s based, As One has plenty of potential for an incredible sports drama yet only manages to partially capitalise on the events that unfolded. While the ideological differences are balanced and entertaining, and the final matches are thrilling and exciting, the choice to fill the narrative with one-dimensional stereotypes and scenarios is detrimental to the film overall. That said, the strength of what transpired is moving and will undoubtedly remind audiences of the power of sports in uniting disparate people, and will certainly hold particular resonance for those of Korean descent.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews

The students of No Use High relish in their sexual promiscuity and non-traditional education

May 17, 2012February 1, 2015

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Dasepo Naughty Girls (다세포 소녀) – ★★☆☆☆

Dasepo Naughty Girls (다세포 소녀)

The opportunity to talk in terms of queer theory, ‘camp’, and ‘otherness’ in mainstream Korean cinema is quite rare. While Korean ideology continually changes at an incredible rate, the conservative Confucian ethics still hold immense influence over the attitudes towards the roles of men, women, and sexual relations. Yet cinema is arguably the best medium in which to explore such counter-cultural themes given the creative freedom of expression inherent to the industry, perhaps more so than the structurally rigid television dramas and K-pop. Enter Dasepo Naughty Girls (다세포 소녀).

Based on the highly popular web-comic, Dasepo Naughty Girls explores the lives of the students at Useless High School (or No Use High), a school where sexual promiscuity is encouraged and the curriculum is anything but traditional. Director Lee J-young (이재용) wisely exploits the opportunity to employ original and creative vision to a narrative that includes protagonists of every sexual persuasion and circumstance. The result is incredibly mixed, as the directorial flair is certainly unique and celebratory, yet is aligned with an awfully vapid and directionless narrative that not only forces the LGBT and transvestite characters into figures of ridicule, but also pushes the boundaries of perversity as certain scenarios are clearly middle-aged male fantasies.

The students at No Use High live rather disparate lives. ‘Poor Girl’ (Kim Ok-bin (김옥빈) lives an extremely humble life due to poverty, literally carrying its’ personification on her back. ‘Rich Boy’ Anthony (Park Jin-woo (박진우) has found love, yet is confused as she is a pre-op transgendered person interestingly named ‘Two Eyes’. Her brother, ‘Cyclops’ (Lee Kyeon (이켠), suffers as the loneliest and only virginal member of the school. As the students’ lives are interwoven, each one must face personal trials to overcome before the final day of graduation. Yet their greatest obstacle is posed by the evil and mysterious principle, who has the power to change bold, individualistic female students into brainwashed geeks. The students must work together to defeat the evil menace in order to continue their lifestyles and graduate unscathed.

The students of No Use High relish in their sexual promiscuity and non-traditional education

Stylistically, Dasepo Naughty Girls is an enjoyable treat with a vibrant colour palette and quirky musical offerings. The opening sees a group of K-pop stylized girls in pink dancing through the school, which is not only fun but sets up the offbeat nature of the film well. Similarly the introduction of musical numbers within the film is entertaining and unique as Korean norae-bang (singing room) culture is wonderfully injected to provide comedy.

Yet aside from a few initial titters, Dasepo Naughty Girls is surprisingly very light on comedy as the scenes intended to provide laughs often result in either immature body jokes or are offensive. While it’s wonderful to see LGBT and transvestite characters receiving screen-time that is more celebratory than depressive, they are quickly ridiculed by a narrative that is desperately attempting to be fun and hip while disguising archaic ideological judgement. For example, ‘Rich Boy’ Anthony’s infatuation with transgendered ‘Double Eyes’ begins humorously during a bathroom error, yet a pornographic video reduces her to a mere body prop from which the character never recovers. ‘Poor Girl’s’ servicing of ‘clients’ also begins well, yet upon meeting transvestite ‘Big Razor Sis’ the duo compete for feminine superiority and acceptance through performance that clearly had only one winner from the start. Racism also appears in the form of an absentee English teacher who not only has sexual liaisons with students but has also infected them with an STD. In these and other scenes it is never the denizens of No Use High that pass judgement but rather the narrative that frequently posits such figures in society as shocking ‘deviants’ to be laughed at and from which comedy can be derived.

Yet ironically the most bizarre – and frankly perverse – plot involves the respected figure of the principal. The mystery involves female students who were previously sexually adventurous, but after visiting the principal’s office become studious nerds with little interest in boys. To achieve this, the principal takes a glob of green material (presumably jade) from his mouth and, using his finger, inserts it into the students’ vagina, for which they are thankful and grateful. As prior to such scenes the principal and his methods were barely a blip on the narrative radar, this tangent conveys not only a ‘tacked on’ sensibility but also a middle-aged male fantasy of intimacy with sexually willing high school girls. The resulting battle, which sees students wafting their genital ‘power’ at the source of the disturbance, is a surreal scenario that seemingly attempts to circumvent prior scenes through oddity, and additionally offers precious little closure on the array of narrative threads that lead to such a juncture.

‘Poor Girl’ meets a transvestite client for teenage frolics

It is particularly difficult to discuss Dasepo Naughty Girls in terms of acting, as the film is intended to be an over-acted and surrealist take on high school life. The extremely limiting screen-time bestowed upon most of the protagonists also hinders proceedings as most characters barely reappear after their initial introduction.

Amongst the handful of characters that recur, it is ‘Poor Girl’ who appears the most and as such carries Dasepo Naughty Girls on her shoulders. This is actually in the films’ favor as the actress is incredibly talented, managing to find the ambiguous fine line between tongue-in-cheek humour, offbeat comedy, and genuine acting. Kim Ok-bin gives the film much needed focus and grounding as well as a heart and soul, and her presence is sorely missed when other protagonists are followed. Her scenes with ‘Big Razor Sis’ are in stark contrast to the poverty inherent in her private life, yet the actress is convincing in each and every scenario.

‘Poor Girl’s’ love for ‘Rich Boy’ Anthony is continually unrequited

Verdict:

Dasepo Naughty Girls is stylized entertainment, one that uses imaginative colour and camera techniques to provide fun and quirky originality within a national cinema that tends to focus on more standardized storytelling. Yet the stylization cannot hide the vacuous nature of the narrative which simultaneously celebrates and derides the protagonists within, and which also fails to merge the various threads into a coherent whole.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews

The amesiac man (Kim Jeong-tae (김정태) attempts to (re-)discover his identity

May 8, 2012February 1, 2015

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Remember O Goddess (나를 잊지 말아요) – ★★★★☆

Remember O Goddess (나를 잊지 말아요)

One of the most fundamental ideological features of Korean cinema is alienation, yet the topic is almost always at the fringes of the narrative, accepted as a commonplace backdrop against which the protagonists reside. Oh Dae-su was sadistically kidnapped, imprisoned, and isolated for years in Seoul in Oldboy; Mr. Kim attempted suicide due to the stress of city life, and found a private paradise in Castaway on the Moon; and Yang Mi-ja expressed her loneliness and repressed passion through art in Poetry. Yet in each instance it was not their loneliness that drove the narrative forward, despite the central role in which it played in characterization.

In Remember O Goddess (나를 잊지 말아요) director Lee Yoon-jung explores the concept of alienation in conjunction with identity in contemporary Seoul, constructing a fascinating and enthralling psychological noir that exemplifies the incredible quality of Korean independent cinema. The delicately nuanced scenes, the intellectual-yet-comedic dissection of contemporary identity, as well as an arguably career-best performance by lead actor Kim Jeong-tae (김정태), combine to create a 25 minute short film that easily surpasses the majority of feature length productions.

The amesiac man (Kim Jeong-tae (김정태) attempts to (re-)discover his identity

N.B. Before reading the review, you can watch the 25 minute short film at the official website here.

Remember O Goddess is a sophisticatedly crafted, character-driven study of a man searching for his identity. Rather than focus on bombastic or shocking scenes, director Lee Yoon-jung emphasizes the subtleties of the protagonists’ dilemma as he attempts to piece together his fractured self. The manner in which this occurs is part-satire and part-capitalist critique as the man scours his belongings for clues, investigating the most minor details in order to discover what kind of man he truly is. This leads to moments both comedic, as he attempts to (re)discover smoking, and poignant, as he silently stares at the vast and densely populated cityscape before him.

Relationships are also wonderfully deconstructed throughout the film, as the man desperately clings to any form of connection that his circumstances allow. Yet in doing so he highlights the artificiality of contemporary relationships, as well as the (im)personal barriers and the impatience of citizens. Such artifice is eloquently interrogated as those in the service industries are polite yet superficially so, rapidly displaying frustration at the man’s naivety and innocence. Director Lee Yoon-jung showcases her skill during such delicately nuanced scenes – including the relationship with the female store clerk, and a comedically tragic phone call – conveying a plethora of visual and narrative motifs and emotions that define the existence of a contemporary city lifestyle.

The man attempts to forge a relationship with a convenience store worker

It is not an exaggeration to say that in his role as the amnesiac man, Kim Jeong-tae is absolutely sublime. His performance is staggering and conveys an actor fully dedicated to inhabiting the role, as his subtle mannerisms and awkwardness highlight the intense vulnerability of a man pushed to the brink of desperation. Whether the scene involves reporting himself as a missing person or merely attempting to acquire the date, Kim Jeong-tae simultaneously exhibits fragility, curiosity, loneliness and anguish seemingly effortlessly.

The man stares at the vast cityscape in which he inhabits

Despite such high-level praise, Remember O Goddess suffers from one minor issue. This is not related to any of the creative talents involved in producing the film; the reason is, rather superficially, due to the limiting running time. The film is clearly a prelude of a feature film, awash with potential that literally demands further exploration which a greater time limit would allow. As such the film functions as an introductory segment of a promising narrative, a declarative showcase of the talent the conglomeration of individuals are capable of.

This is where you can help. Director Lee Yoon-jung is seeking funding to produce the feature-length version of Remember O Goddess via kickstarter. Please visit the website here to read all the information and to donate to the project. The film is clearly well worth supporting and the cast and crew are fully committed to the production, with all money raised going into the production itself.

★★★★☆

Reviews

After a brief stint in Kpop, Jin-ah now hosts the failing radio show 'Wonderful Radio'

May 3, 2012February 1, 2015

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Wonderful Radio (Love On-Air) (원더풀 라디오) – ★★☆☆☆

Wonderful Radio (원더풀 라디오)

The Korean fascination with K-pop celebrities and the ‘scandals’ that are seemingly inherent within the industry continually appear in a variety of cinematic forms. Comedy 200 Pounds Beauty explored the concept of beauty and image, while horror White: The Melody of the Curse focused on the rivalry between the members and the plagiarism that frequently occurs. Interestingly, with romantic-comedy Wonderful Radio (원더풀 라디오), maturity and life following celebrity status are examined.

Wonderful Radio joins You’re My Pet as the other big star-driven romantic comedy of 2011; and, as with You’re My Pet, offers little more than a vacuous narrative of two attractive yet contrasting people forging an improbable relationship. Save for an interesting but all-too-brief interrogation of the pretense inherent in K-pop, Wonderful Radio is a mildly entertaining yet instantly forgettable experience.

Jin-ah (Lee Min-jeong (이민정) is the radio DJ for the ailing ‘Wonderful Radio’ segment, a show that is hemorrhaging listeners chiefly through her selfish and rude behavior. Jin-ah desperately longs for her past career as a K-pop icon in girl group ‘Purple’, yet her attempts to rejoin the music industry are continually thwarted as younger stars rise in popularity. In a bid to finally axe the show and Jin-ah’s career, manager In-seok (Kim Jeong-tae (김정태) promotes the notoriously difficult producer Lee Jae-hyeok (Lee Jeong-jin (이정진) to helm the show. Yet against the odds, and despite their constant bickering, Jin-ah and Jae-hyeok may have found a way to save ‘Wonderful Radio’ as well as the start of a blossoming romance.

After a brief stint in Kpop, Jina now hosts the failing radio show 'Wonderful Radio'

After a brief stint in K-pop, Jin-ah now hosts the failing ‘Wonderful Radio’

The above comparison between Wonderful Radio and You’re My Pet may seem unfair, yet both films are intended as rather commercially driven efforts to promote the central performers through crowd pleasing romantic tales. Unfortunately for Wonderful Radio, Lee Min-jeong – though a fast rising star – and Lee Jeong-jin do not have the same star power or acting credentials as Kim Ha-neul and Jang Geun-seok, and as such the contrived narrative conveys an even more manufactured sensibility.

As is often noted in any basic film studies and screen-writing course, the opening five-to-ten minutes of any film are crucial in attracting and captivating audience attention; if successful, audiences can forge empathic bonds with the protagonists, with the intensity of the faux-relationship mesmerizing viewers into following the narrative through to its conclusion. Wonderful Radio does not adhere to such a train of thought. The opening act, while admittedly setting up the premise of Jin-ah and her declining show, is utterly directionless with the only driving force being Jin-ah’s intolerable behavior. While she is intended to be something of a ‘princess’ stereotype, full of arrogance and pride, Jin-ah is actually closer to being psychotic as exemplified by her recurring temper tantrums and childish fits. Such scenes may very well be for the sake of comedic entertainment, but when the protagonist becomes quiet and reflective scant moments later it is clear that characterization and narrative structure were something of an afterthought.

Luckily Wonderful Radio finds direction thanks to the timely intervention of a taxi driver – the ever-dependable Jeong Man-sik (정만식) – who adds much needed heart and emotion to the proceedings. With a core theme attached director Kwon Chil-in (권칠인) manages to explore, albeit briefly, the superficial facade of being a K-pop star and promotes ‘authentic’ music, including playing an instrument and removing cheorography, as superior due to the emotional content. While the intriguing topic has incredible potential, it is rapidly jettisoned in favor of returning to the unconvincing love developing between the mismatched lead actors.

Uncompromising new producer Jae-hyeok attempts to make Wonderful Radio a hit

With such a vapid narrative, the director wisely – or cynically – focuses vast attention on Lee Min-jeong’s undeniable beauty. Indeed, seemingly every few minutes the actress’ face is framed in close up with extreme soft focus, often appearing fragile and on the verge of tears. Lee Min-jeong’s charisma during such moments is palpable and distracting enough to forget the incredible shortcomings of the narrative for an instant, yet disapates almost immediately once her presence is absent. However it is mostly her image that causes such affliction as Lee Min-jeong’s performance is, for the first and second act at least, below par due to the odd behaviorial schizophrenia of her protagonist. The actress is much more comfortable in the final act when her character has calmed, and adequately portrays the character.

The rest of the cast are mostly in supporting roles, with even love interest Lee Jeong-jin as Jae-hyeok something of a secondary character who is woefully underdeveloped and under-represented. The supporting cast enter the narrative seeingly to add people to the scenes and offer very little aside from the occassional moment of comedy. Actor Lee Kwang Soo fares best in this regard as downtrodden Dae-geun, displaying his comedic sensibilities well despite the predicability.

Jina attempts to relaunch herself as a more 'authentic' musician - and human being

Jin-ah attempts to relaunch herself as a more ‘authentic’ musician – and human being

Verdict:

Wonderful Radio is very much a comercially-driven star vehicle for Lee Min-jeong, which would certainly be no bad thing were it not for the directionless, bland and predictable narrative, and the incredibly underdeveloped characterisation. The film does attempt to correct the issues with the introduction of emotional content and an interesting perspective on the world of K-pop, yet these measures are brought in far too late and appear all too briefly to make an impact. As such, Wonderful Radio is a lacklustre romantic-comedy that is instantly forgettable.

★★☆☆☆