Reviews – Page 4

July 6, 2015August 5, 2015

— 5 Comments

The Treacherous (간신) – ★★☆☆☆

The Treacherous (간신)

NB: This review is based on the European edit of The Treacherous.

In 1505 AD, the tyrannical King Yeonsan (Kim Kang-woo (김강우) has insatiable sexual desires that, alongside his violent suppression of any who oppose him, makes him one of the most despised rulers in the history of Korea. His lust becomes so great that he orders advisors Im Soong-jae (Joo Ji-hoon (주지훈) and Lim Sa-hong (Cheon Ho-jin (천호진) to become ‘Beauty Scout Officers,’ and acquire 10,000 women from across the land for his pleasure. Yet King Yeonsan’s greed results in widespread anger across the peninsula, while the motivations of some of his new beauties, including peasant girl Dan-hee (Lim Ji-yeon (임지연), may seal his doom.

The insatiable king commands his advisors to bring him 10,000 women

Based on the true story of abhorred King Yeonsan, The Treacherous is a beautifully composed and colourful period drama by director Min Gyoo-dong who generates an acute epic scale and flair to the proceedings. Yet the overly long film is marred by a thread-bare narrative and frightfully misogynistic sexual politics throughout that, in conjunction with distinctly OTT performances by the main cast, make the erotic piece little more than a visually attractive male fantasy.

Helmer/scribe Min Gyoo-dong has certainly exceeded himself in a cinematic sense, as The Treacherous represents his most visually competent work to date in an impressive filmography that contains All About My Wife and Memento Mori. The period drama consistently emphasises epic scale whether capturing the grandiose exterior locations or within the beautifully ornate rooms in the palace, displaying lavish production values in every frame. Combined with a glorious use of colour, the Joseon dynasty has rarely looked more elegant and wondrous.

Yet while director Min conveys the extravagance of the era with aplomb, the manner in which he portrays women is appalling. King Yeonsan is despised within the annals of history for his violent subjugation and womanising – he is especially noted for converting revered libraries into concubine abodes – however rather than convey the royal’s actions negatively, director Min glamourises them as male fantasy to the point of disbelief. Scenes involving his forcibly acquired 10,000 women being paraded, putting special powder into their vaginas to make them tighter, or bent over in a line and forced to endure different sized dildos before receiving a stamp on their rears, are presented as erotica and are thoroughly misogynistic in nature.

The acquired women are forced to endure sexual humiliation for the King’s pleasure

Actress Lim Ji-yeon, fresh from winning a few Best New Actress awards in erotic drama Obsessed in 2014, is generally the focus of such fetishisation within The Treacherous. It’s curious that she has opted to appear in another film that requires much more exposure and sexual scenes as her latest project, but she acquits herself confidently and capably. Her unique form of ‘non-acting’ and the coldness she exudes however makes her character difficult to empathise with, yet luckily her motivations alongside the dire ways in which she is treated within the palace easily position her as the heroine of the film.

The narrative also attempts to posit royal advisor and beauty scout officer Im Soong-jae as a hero of sorts yet fails through the poorly constructed plot. Though he is very much the central protagonist of the film, Im is portrayed as a horribly selfish and ambitious individual from the very opening with his impetus to change based solely on his attraction to peasant girl Dan-hee. Actor Joo Ji-hoon does what he can with the role yet as there is precious little chemistry between him and Lim Ji-yeon, the advisor’s attempts to reform ultimately ring hollow.

The greatest problem however lies with Kim Kang-woo as King Yeonsan. Suffering psychological issues due to a disease brought on by his promiscuity, the King is undoubtedly a villainous figure yet Kim Kang-woo portrays the man as the Joker on acid, cackling throughout scenes while falling into hysterics in others, and forcing those around him to endure ridiculous tests of torment. It’s a frustrating approach and one that effects the entire film, and makes the overly long two hour running time even more arduous.

The King becomes palpably psychotic as he forces bizarre tests of endurance

Verdict:

The Treacherous is a visually extravagant and epic period drama by helmer/scribe Min Gyoo-dong, with the Joseon dynasty rarely appearing more elegant and grandiose. However the misogyny laced throughout the weak and overly-long narrative is awful, presenting the violent sexual subjugation of 10,000 women as male fantasy masquerading as erotica. Combined with bland performances by the central cast, The Treacherous is an attractive yet frustrating effort.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews

July 2, 2015July 13, 2015

— 3 Comments

Coin Locker Girl (차이나타운) – ★★★☆☆

Coin Locker Girl (차이나타운)

Abandoned by her biological mother in a coin locker in Seoul, a baby girl is discovered by a passing vagabond and brought up on the streets by the homeless community. Named ‘Il-yeong’ after the number ’10’ compartment in which she was discovered, the youngster shows remarkable resilience to her situation, a trait which proves useful when a corrupt cop abducts and sells her to a criminal organisation headed by sinister matriarch Mama (Kim Hye-soo (김혜수). Years later, Il-yeong (Kim Go-eun (김고은) has grown to become an enforcer and debt-collector for the organisation based in the seedy underbelly of Chinatown. Yet when Il-yeong is forced to collect a payment from kind-hearted Seok-hyeon she becomes conflicted, leading to a violently catastrophic showdown with those she has come to regard as family.

In Chinatown, Il-yeong collects debts for criminal matriach 'mom'

In Chinatown, Il-yeong collects debts for criminal matriarch ‘Mom’

Visually attractive and featuring a mesmerising performance by Kim Hye-soo, Coin Locker Girl – or the more pertinent Korean title Chinatown – is a narratively lacking yet impressive directorial debut by Han Jun-hee.

Director Han wonderfully employs colour to startling effect throughout the crime drama, utilising stunning shades of green in conveying the eerie, mysterious, and threatening world dominated by intense mob boss Mom, yet he also keeps the film grounded through the use of monotone shades of brown in conveying the drab existence his protagonists lead. In conjunction with skewed camera angles that generate surreal intensity, Coin Locker Girl is quite the stylised urban fable. The film is also a particularly refreshing break from the overabundance of testosterone in cinema, featuring two strong central females leads who are more than capable of emerging victorious over their male counterparts.

Where Coin Locker Girl falters however is primarily due to the weak narrative. While competent, and certainly a big step up from director Han’s writing duties on disappointing thriller Gifted Hands, the crime drama simply lacks the impetus required to make the events compelling. The film is often referred to as ‘A Bittersweet Life with women’ due to the very similar narrative structure, yet whereas director Kim Ji-woon spent time developing his central character’s foibles and making him someone audiences could emotionally invest in, the same cannot be said for Il-yeong’s trajectory due to a host of logic lapses and superfluous scenes involving underdeveloped supporting roles, a rival gang, as well as contrived motivations designed purely for plot progression. Il-yeong’s story, while interesting, doesn’t resonate as it should and as such ironically villainess Mama steals the limelight.

Mom is an intense, deadly force to be reckoned with

Mama is an intense, deadly force to be reckoned with

As underworld matriarch Mama, Kim Hye-soo is fascinating. Her transformative performance is easily a career highlight for the venerated actress, who exchanges the feminine glamour for which she is renown for a dowdy, masculine charisma with ease. Combined with her often disturbingly intense stares and danger-filled silences, Kim is wholly believable as a ruthless Chinatown kingpin. Every time Mama appears onscreen she dominates the proceedings, providing sorely needed suspense and compulsion to the narrative and is by far the most intriguing character within the film.

Kim Go-eun, however, has been completely miscast as gang enforcer/debt collector Il-yeong. While she is undoubtedly a charismatic actress, as exemplified in A Muse, Kim’s perfectly white and unblemished face in conjunction with her waif-like physique simply don’t convey the required gravitas the role requires and stands in stark contrast to the efforts employed by Kim Hye-soo. Though not a fault of her making, Kim Go-eun – as well as love interest Park Bo-geum – also falls victim to the oddities within the script and while she performs admirably, it’s difficult to emotionally invest in her journey.

Narrative peculiarities also particularly effect the supporting cast. Jo Bok-rae (C’est Si Bon) is criminally underused as corrupt cop Tak and he, along with the other male roles, seem to be present purely to engage in violent scenes that ironically tend to force Il-yeong to the sidelines. As adopted sister Song, Lee Soo-kyeong is present merely to be attractive although a scene in which she stabs herself in the arm with heroin, rather than injecting it into her veins, is quite laughable and destroys sympathy for the wayward antagonist. As the supporting roles are so underdeveloped, it is always a relief when Mama returns to the screen for she is the driving force behind Coin Locker Girl and the reason it’s an engaging viewing experience.

Il-yeong begins her quest for revenge

Verdict:

Coin Locker Girl is a visually impressive debut by writer/direcor Han Jun-jee, who employs striking colours and skewed camera angles to generate the intensity of the criminal underworld in Chinatown. Narratively however the crime drama is weak, yet the film is saved by a fascinatingly transformative performance by Kim Hye-soo who brings palpable gravitas to the role and provides the necessary compulsion to make Coin Locker Girl an entertaining effort.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

June 13, 2015December 6, 2015

— 1 Comment

Madonna (마돈나) – ★★★☆☆

Madonna (마돈나)

With debts mounting and depression looming, single thirty-something Hae-rim (Seo Yeong-hee (서영희) takes employment as a nurse on an exclusive VIP ward at a large hospital. Stunned by the difference in care the social-elite command, Hae-rim nevertheless works hard to provide treatment for her patient – an elderly and particularly wealthy mogul, whose son and heir Sang-woo (Kim Yeong-min (김영민) endeavours to keep alive whatever the cost. Following the tycoon’s latest heart transplant rejection time has seemingly run out, until the arrival of a comatose Jane Doe signals another possibility of prolonging his life. Yet upon Hae-rim’s discovery that the potential donor is pregnant, Sang-woo charges her with discovering the patient’s identity and obtaining permission from her next of kin, and in digging deeper into the life of Mi-na (Kwon So-hyeon (권소현) – nicknamed ‘Madonna’ – Hae-rim unearths some truly disturbing revelations.

Hae-rim is charged with locating Mi-na’s next of kin

Featuring an equally impassioned sense of social injustice that made her prior film Pluto such a festival hit, writer/director Shin Su-won’s Madonna is a potent and unrelenting exploration of class inequality and misogyny in contemporary Korean society, one that potently generates debate on a great number of issues. The noir-esque drama also represents a clear technical evolution for Shin, as her collaboration with Yun Ji-woon’s on camera duties and Lee Shin-hye’s production design has yielded a noticeable level of visual finesse. Yet ultimately Madonna falls prey to overambition as the narrative attempts to include such a vast array of societal ills that the viewing experience becomes a punishing test of endurance, while structural imbalances in the final act tend to drain emotional resonance from the story. That said, Madonna is certainly one of the best Korean releases in the first half of 2015, and its premiere at Cannes was utterly deserved.

Director Shin displays incredible insight in regards to the culture of bullying within Korean culture, which she expresses through examining the rather vicious class system and associated sense of privilege, as well as the seemingly ingrained sexism and abuse that patriarchy knowingly perpetuates. The VIP wing beautifully captures such philosophies through portraying the excesses afforded to the rich clientele, with rooms adorned as if royalty were visiting yet are wonderfully cast in shadow to imply the secretive, macabre nature of the ward. The sense of entitlement expressed through the occupants articulate the amoral stance of the wealthy, with scenes featuring the chastisement of doctors akin to torture, the sexually predatory nature aimed at nurses, and one particularly effective confrontation, a discussion regarding obtaining organs via the Chinese black market. The hospital, as with the school in Pluto, is a location in which human rights abuses occur not only undisturbed, but are accepted.

As such, Hae-rim’s task in tracking Mi-na’s relatives becomes not merely an investigative case, but one that comes to embody an acute sense of social justice – for her, her unborn baby, and underprivileged women in general.

Hae-rim’s investigation reveals a dark underbelly of abuse and misogyny

With the advent of Hae-rim’s mission, the narrative switches from the tightly controlled and well paced clinic-centric drama to a non-linear one that examines the issues Hae-rim currently endures, alongside flashbacks that unveil the experiences that led to Mi-na’s hospitalisation. Initially the noir-esque device works wonderfully as it allows director Shin to explore an even greater array of societal abuse, victimisation and psychological trauma. As Hae-rim goes beyond her remit she discovers the horrifying tale of her ‘Madonna’ – of a woman abused at every level of society by those around her, with the cruelty she endures generating a more religious appropriation for her namesake as opposed to the pop idol.

Yet as the flashbacks detailing Mi-na’s past become increasingly longer, Hae-rim’s journey succumbs to a supporting role, and as a result the intrigue and tension initially constructed regarding the hospital and her position within it ultimately dissipates, as does the invest in her character. The different timelines also fail to generate an emotional connection between the two women given their very different trajectories. Director Shin seems to become aware of this and, quite jarringly, inserts a traumatic scene to create the required empathy yet due to the unbalanced structure of the final act, it doesn’t quite work as effectively as it could.

The consistent depiction of abuse towards Mi-na also becomes problematic as the film becomes akin to a gruelling test of endurance. The atrocities committed become ever more horrifying – and in one particular confrontation needlessly graphic – that lack the emotional and contextual gravitas as with, say, Han Gong-ju, resulting in provoking the debate of ‘just how far is too far’ in the depiction of sexual violence instead of the intended discourse of sexual assault on marginalised women.

In the role of Mi-na/Madonna however, newbie actress Kwon So-hyeon is terrific. She wholeheartedly commits to the role with impressive verve and courage with a performance that is likely to cement her as a presence in Korean indie cinema for years to come. Seo Yeong-hee meanwhile, who previously portrayed female abuse and cathartic revenge to stunning effect in Bedevilled, performs highly capably in what is ultimately an emotionally limited role. Her presence, while cold, is charismatic and her return as a powerful female lead is welcome indeed.

Mi-na’s traumatic history of abuse is revealed through potent flashbacks

Verdict:

Madonna is an impassioned story of social injustice and sexist abuse in contemporary Korean society by writer/director Shin Su-won. Displaying an evolved visual finesse and featuring a potent exploration of the cruel class system, the noir-esque drama is an unflinching take on societal ills. The film ultimately becomes a gruelling test of endurance and lacking in emotional resonance due to final act structural imbalances, yet despite this Madonna is certainly one of the best Korean films of 2015 so far.

★★★☆☆

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hINkQOnnm6c

Reviews

May 25, 2015July 6, 2015

— 2 Comments

Snowy Road (눈길) – ★★★☆☆

Snowy Road (눈길)

During the Japanese occupation of Korea, Yeong-ae (Kim Sae-ron (김새론), the arrogant daughter of a rich man in the village, studies hard to learn the language of the hostile force and be accepted within the ranks. Poverty-stricken Jong-boon (Kim Hyang-ki (김향기), meanwhile, must contend herself with menial chores until the possibility of marrying out of hardship arises. Yet when the Japanese forces come looking for girls to be ‘comfort women’ – or rather, sexual slaves – financial status does not enter consideration and both youngsters are abducted into a life of horrific servitude.

In the present day Jong-boon (Kim Yeong-ok (김영옥), now an elderly woman, lives alone in a dilapidated part of town. Noticing that her teenage neighbour Eun-soo (Cho Soo-hyang (조수향) is in trouble, she takes it alone herself to help the girl and in doing so is forced to confront the traumatic experiences of her past.

Yeong-ae and Jong-boon are abducted and forced to provide sexual services to Japanese troops

Snowy Road originally aired as a two-part television drama, yet for the purpose of a cinematic release the episodes have been edited together to create a powerful testament to the horrific abuses Korean women suffered during the Japanese occupation. Despite a large number of films and documentaries exploring the subject matter over the years, upon receiving its world premiere at Jeonju Film Festival 2015, Snowy Road left audiences sobbing at the depiction of two of Korea’s youngest and most celebrated actresses reenacting the torture so many women suffered at the hands of the Japanese Imperial Army. While the film does not always escape the production shortcomings and melodramatic trappings of K-drama, Snowy Road is a particularly emotional piece that strongly resonates.

Director Lee Na-jeong and writer Yoo Bo-ra have crafted an impressive tribute to women’s suffering in both the past and present through the non-linear story, cutting between the two periods to reinforce how women’s rights have changed and how far they have yet to go. For scenes in the past, director Lee conveys the atrocities committed to Korean women through the abduction, imprisonment and abuses Yeong-ae and Jong-boon endure at the hands of the Japanese. Yet in the present a rather different set of injustices are dealt with, as elderly Jong-boon is routinely treated with disrespect while her young charge Eun-soo, alone and in need of money, becomes easy prey for wealthy middle-aged men. It is difficult to state how brave director Lee and writer Yoo are for examining the abuses of the past (Japanese men) and present (Korean men) and depicting them parallel to each other through the narrative, especially given the current highly conservative and patriarchal political climate, as well as with anti-Japanese sentiment so high following Prime Minister Abe’s denial that the incidents ever occurred. That is not to say that the crimes are in any way equal – rather, that Lee and Yoo’s bravery comes from not over-simplifying the debates put forth as purely the result of an external ‘other’, but also critically looking within contemporary Korean culture to explore the plights that effect modern Korean women. Snowy Road presents the issues well, impressively articulating that women need to stand united against injustices past and present to draw attention to their plight, rather than internalise guilt and shame.

Elderly Jong-boon and Eun-soo form a unique bond through their experiences

Elderly Jong-boon and Eun-soo form a unique bond due to their experiences

While Snowy Road ambitiously tackles such sensitive issues competently, the film consistently struggles to escape its origins, existing somewhere between a TV drama and film but not quite fitting into either category. Cinematography of landscapes are generally composed with skill and appear cinematic, yet when faced with more intimate moments or generating tension the budget limitations become increasingly clear. As such crucial scenes, most explicitly apparent at the internment camp where Yeong-ae and Jong-boon are abused, lack the potency and sense of urgency that a film of this nature should contain.

The film also falls into cliche TV drama territory as the narrative attempts to come to a close. Melodrama has long been a feature of Korean TV and film output so it comes as little surprise that such generic devices arise in Snowy Road, however a film dealing with the subject matter of comfort women hardly requires such heavy-handed efforts to evoke tears from the audience. The story is tragic enough without additional manipulative melodramatic tropes, and their inclusion does a disservice to those who experienced such horrific trauma.

However that said, director Lee has chosen a particularly solid cast to express the issues being put forth. Kim Sae-ron is really developing into a wonderfully talented actress, and following her stellar performance in A Girl at My Door she exudes the icy arrogance of her character in Snowy Road delightfully. Playing off Kim’s cold demeanour is no small effort yet Kim Hyang-ki (Thread of Lies) is especially likeable as the young and warm-hearted Jong-boon. The actresses have established their careers with monikers such as ‘the nation’s daughters’ which undoubtedly serves to generate even more emotional resonance. The actresses in the present are somewhat shortchanged by the script yet Cho Soo-hyang, who scored Best Actress at Busan Film Festival 2014 for Wild Flowers, and Kim Yeong-ok acquit themselves admirably.

Jong-boon and Yeong-ae attempt to flee the internment camp

Verdict:

Snowy Road is a highly emotional charged film about ‘comfort women’ and the horrific abuses they suffered during the Japanese occupation. Yet director Lee Na-jeong and writer Yoo Bo-ra impressively combine the sensitive subject matter with the issues faced by contemporary women, and deserve credit for it. While the film often struggles to escape its TV drama origins, Snowy Road is a powerful and resonating story on a vital topic.

★★★☆☆

16th Jeonju International Film Festival (제16회 전주국제영화제) Festival News Korean Film Festivals 2015 Reviews

May 3, 2015May 17, 2015

— Leave a Comment

Warm After All (짐작보다 따뜻하게) – ★★☆☆☆

Warm After All (짐작보다 따뜻하게)

Dubbing actress Eun-kyeong (Lee Sun (이선) is a successful artist, yet a struggling single mother. Her teenage son Hoon (Kim Yu-bin (김유빈) shows little regard for his mother’s concerns, staying out late at PC cafes instead of coming home and eating lovingly prepared meals. Sun-kyeong’s stress about the issue becomes so fervent that insomnia arises and begins to effect her work, causing anxiety amongst her colleagues. Strangely however, ex-husband Sang-min (Im Hak-soon (임학순) has a good relationship with Hoon, and the two work together to plan a birthday surprise for Eun-kyeong. Yet when Eun-kyeong’s health takes a turn for the worst Sang-min is compelled to return, forcing them to confront the issues in their relationship.

Sensitively composed and particularly timely, director Lee Sang-min’s Warm After All is heartfelt film exploring the nature of love, tragedy and trauma. Through Eun-kyeong, an intelligent, successful and attractive career woman who seemingly has it all, director Lee interrogates the manner in which emotional and psychological anguish can manifest during the healing process without the proper support. The film is very much a gentle character study, with actress Lee Sun’s compelling performance inferring the depth of Eun-kyeong’s suffering potently as well as providing an absorbing and resonating emotional narrative core.

Ex-husband Sang-min plans a birthday surprise for Eun-kyeong with son Hoon

While the first half of Warm After All interestingly explores Eun-kyeong’s – and to a lesser extent ex-husband Sang-min’s – psychological disposition, the narrative takes an excessive amount of time to reach what is ultimately a rather predictable plot device. Wisely director Lee employs it around the halfway point and from there the film gains more traction and poignancy as the divorced couple support each other during the healing process, conveying their frailties through well-framed shots and the effective use of beautiful Jeju Island landscapes.

Yet rather than deeply explore the internal conflicts and hardships plaguing them, or the ways in which the estranged couple come to accept and deal with reality, Warm After All instead portrays Eun-kyeong and Sang-min’s path to stability somewhat romantically which is a misstep. Certain scenes, notably that of Sang-min’s preparation of a tent for Eun-kyeong while she sleeps, are tenderly crafted and moving, however in skipping over the depths of such a pivotal and central theme the overall power and emotional resonance of the narrative is significantly lessened.

Eun-kyeong struggles to cope with the issues that plague her

Verdict:

Warm After All is a sensitive and timely drama about love, tragedy and anguish by director Lee Sang-min. The film depicts emotional and psychological trauma with sincerity although only manages to become truly engaging at the half way stage, yet even then struggles to explore the depths of trauma and the healing process. Warm After All is an affecting yet slight examination of love and loss.

★★☆☆☆

16th Jeonju International Film Festival (제16회 전주국제영화제) Festival News Korean Film Festivals 2015 Reviews

May 2, 2015May 17, 2015

— Leave a Comment

Unconfessional (고백할 수 없는) – ★☆☆☆☆

Unconfessional (고백할 수 없는)

Resolved to produce an artistic independent film worthy of a premiere at Cannes, famous genre director Byeong-cheon (Bae Sung-woo (배선우) prepares to interview a local teenager for the lead role. With his sullen daughter Na-rae (Han Jae-in (한재인) out on a day trip with her estranged mother, the director welcomes prospective actor Se-young (Jeong Seong-il (정성일) into his home and begins to record their conversation on camera. Yet the interview takes an unexpected turn when Byeong-cheon begins asking questions about Se-young’s connection to Na-rae, and as the two attempt to psychologically outmaneuver each other the situation escalates into dark territory.

Unconfessional is an attempt at constructing a scaled-down character-driven thriller, and is a noble effort by director Choe In-gyu (최인규). The great strength of the film lies in the location, a wonderfully labyrinthian homestead featuring multiple tiers and arenas within which director Choe wisely keeps the action confined. The narrative is also initially good at generating suspense and in keeping the motives of Beong-cheon and Se-young concealed, imparting various red herrings to deter audiences from predicting their true intentions.

Byeong-cheon’s actions and motives are mysterious to say the least

Yet following the rather intriguing opening, Unconfessional slips into a comedy-thriller of sorts through a combination of overacting, laughably silly twists and turns, and hilariously bad dialogue. Just how much director Choe intended such humourous features to be part of the film’s identity is open for debate, yet it is certainly entertaining as well as effective at lightening the darker moments of the narrative. “How dare you not know George Michael!” Byeong-cheon excessively exclaims as he violently discusses music with Se-young, before accusing the teen of using his “nasty banana” with daughter Na-rae and throwing a cup of urine in his face. Such darkly-comedic scenes – undoubtedly receiving contributions from poor subtitling – tend to replace tension with farce, yet it is consistently amusing.

Unfortunately however, as Unconfessional enters its final act the film becomes subsumed beneath the various twists, odd characterisation and the genre requirement for a final revelation. It all becomes quite nonsensical, through the bizzarity of Byeong-cheon and Se-young’s connection and the poor technical prowess displayed during their conflict, while the last-minute inclusion of Na-rae who, along with her mother, were largely written out of the script for much of the running time, combines to lead to a rather unsatisfactory conclusion.

How is Na-rae tied to both Byeong-cheon and Se-young?

Verdict:

Unconfessional is a noble effort by director Choe In-gyu to create a scaled-down thriller, one which is initially good at concealing character motivation. Yet the film – unintentionally or otherwise – slips into a comedy-thriller of sorts through laughable twists and turns which ultimately leads to a nonsensical and disappointing climax.

★☆☆☆☆

16th Jeonju International Film Festival (제16회 전주국제영화제) Festival News Korean Film Festivals 2015 Reviews

May 2, 2015June 8, 2015

— Leave a Comment

Coin Locker (코인라커) – ★☆☆☆☆

Coin Locker (코인라커)

In a desolate, crime-ridden part of town, former boxer Sang-pil (Lee Yeong-hoon (이영훈) turns to local loan shark Jae-gon (Jeong Wook (정욱) to support his gambling habit. Yet through his appallingly bad luck and with debt spiraling out of control, Sang-pil soon finds himself on the receiving end of the gangster’s wrath. In desperate need of a quick-fix solution he turns to estranged wife Yeon (Son Yeo-eun (손여은), who also takes care of their psychologically ill son Geon-ho (건호), for help but to no avail. As Sang-pil is unable to settle the debt, however, Jae-gon comes looking for Yeon for restitution.

The former boxer gets in deep with loan sharks

Coin Locker is a highly erratic and lackadaisical attempt at crafting a gangster-infused drama by director Kim Tae-kyung. Technically lacking, the narrative is also consistently a rather slap-dash affair as storylines and characterisation veer haphazardly, while the ‘logic’ within is often unintentionally comical.

Due to the uncoordinated nature of the script, Coin Locker never really seems to know what kind of film it wants to be and often features large plot holes. Initially it attempts to conform to crime conventions through the conflict between Sang-pil – a terrible former boxer who is seemingly unable to physically defend himself – and cravat-wearing, unthreatening local kingpin Jae-gon, before employing drama tropes as Yeon and her son go on the run, with the foolish mother continuing to frequent familiar places and impossibly confining her son within a subway coin locker, for which he would have to be a skilled contortionist to fit inside of. Add to the mix Geon-ho’s surreal subconscious scenes in which he talks to and blows bubbles with a strange older man, and the result is a mish-mash of disparate features that never successfully coalesce into a satisfactory whole.

Yeon and Geon-ho are forced on the run

Poor characterisation and acting work in conjunction to generate unintended farce, serving to dissolve tension as well as to withdraw audience engagement. Sang-pil is a vile low-life, not only a debt-ridden gambling addict but also a man willing to sell his family home without their acknowledgement. Yet following such behaviour, Coin Locker posits him as a heroic saviour figure during a particularly violent and misogynistic finale, a change of heart that rings especially hollow. Similarly dotting mother Yeon is content to leave her traumatised son in the care of strangers or in an impossibly small coin locker while she attempts – and fails – to to work as a ‘hostess,’ despite the knowledge that they’ll soon be departing for New Zealand anyway. Gangster Jae-gon is the only consistent character throughout the film, with actor Jeong Wook clearly taking great pleasure hamming it up during his scenes.

The film also suffers in other forms, including repetition – gangsters chase, victims run – and corporate placement – Popeye’s, Tesco Homeplus and Lotte Mart logos feature prominently. Tone is also problematic, as after adeline-pumping chase sequences scenes such as blowing bubbles on a rooftop or fun at a fairground suddenly occur. For all of the attempts to play with suture a variety of generic conventions, Coin Locker ultimately, and rather unfortunately, falls flat.

Gambling addict Sang-pil has a sudden change of heart

Verdict:

Coin Locker is an erratic crime-drama by director Kim Tae-kyung. Featuring a particularly uncoordinated narrative, haphazard characterisation and large plot holes, the film is consistently lacking and is often unintentionally comical. While it attempts to amalgamate various conventions they never successfully coalesce into a satisfactory whole, and as such Coin Locker ultimately falls flat.

★☆☆☆☆

16th Jeonju International Film Festival (제16회 전주국제영화제) Festival News Korean Film Festivals 2015 Reviews

May 2, 2015

— Leave a Comment

Waiting for the Snow (눈이라도 내렸으면) – ★☆☆☆☆

Waiting for the Snow (눈이라도 내렸으면)

In a rundown village, cerebral palsy sufferer Seong-gook (Kang Seong-gook (강성국) runs a small news stand in the local subway station. Largely ignored or mistreated by the various inhabitants, Seong-gook dreams of becoming a dancer and spends his evenings drinking soju and dancing in the rain. Also residing in the village is high school student Seon-woo (Yeo Hyo-rim (여효림) who, with little future prospects, joins the workforce only to quickly learn of the hardships that entails. On one particular night Seong-sook and Seon-woo cross paths, and find inspiration.

Waiting for the Snow is one of the more bizarre offerings within the Korean Film Competition at JIFF 2015, in that the film is constructed so haphazardly it is difficult to know exactly what is going on or what director Jang Hee-chul (장희철) is trying to achieve. For the majority of Waiting for the Snow‘s running time, the narrative aimlessly jumps between disparate characters and events which are confusing and often entirely superfluous, resulting in a story that is extremely difficult to engage with or invest in. Random tangents, such as Seong-gook’s friends and an attractive girl receiving perverse attention on the subway, continually enter and exit the narrative and serve merely as distractions, adding precious little to the erratic mix. The film only truly finds direction in the final act as Seong-gook and Seon-woo coincidently meet and stroll through the village together, yet their fleeting encounter leads to a rather farcical, and somewhat cringeworthy, finale that dissolves a lot of the prior chemistry.

Seon-woo finds the work place to be a challenging environment

In conjunction with the disorganised script, aside from a few scenes of attractive cinematography, Waiting for the Snow is also technically found wanting. The direction is competent yet lifeless, the editing is poor, and the soundtrack is particularly incompatible with what’s occurring onscreen. Director Jang attempts to infuse the film with whimsical, surreal moments as Seong-gook attempts to fulfil his dream of dancing, however these scenes are so at odds with the predominantly social-realist aesthetic of the film that they don’t mesh well with the rest of his vision.

With the exception of charismatic Seung-gook, who oddly disappears for much of the central act, poor casting and acting also serve as distractions throughout the film. As teenager Seon-woo, actress Yeo Hyo-rim is rather schizophrenic in that her characterisation veers from too-cool-for-school bad girl, to shy worker, to rage fuelled victim, to innocent youngster. Her clearly older age is also an issue, although it’s nothing compared to her school friends who appear middle-aged, in conjunction with some truly horrible acting. Seung-gook’s shrieking ‘ajumma’ subway friends are a further annoyance. With precious few protagonists to invest in, Waiting for the Snow is very much a laborious viewing experience.

Seung-gook dreams of becoming an elegant dancer

Verdict:

Waiting for the Snow is a frustrating endeavour. Featuring an erratic narrative structure alongside technical issues and poor acting, director Jang Hee-chul’s film is especially difficult to engage with and invest in. The film only truly finds direction in the final act, yet it is too little too late to save audiences from what is ultimately a laborious viewing experience.

★☆☆☆☆

16th Jeonju International Film Festival (제16회 전주국제영화제) Festival News Korean Film Festivals 2015 Reviews

May 2, 2015May 17, 2015

— Leave a Comment

Stay With Me (울보) – ★★☆☆☆

Stay With Me (울보)

Moving to a small suburban city with his father, academically gifted student E-seop (Jang Yoo-sang (장유상) begins attending the local high school where he quickly earns a reputation for his intelligence. While at school E-seop becomes entranced by fellow student Ha-yun (Ha Yoon-gyeong (하윤경) as well as her far from admirable attitude towards studying. Through the unlikely friendship that blossoms between them E-seop is introduced to local criminal Gil-su (Lee Seo-joon (이서준), and as the three disaffected, abandoned youths attempt to carve out an existence they are confronted with the dangers of society.

Stay With Me is a compelling and interesting exploration of the ways in which young people from different economic backgrounds are forsaken in contemporary society. Director Rhee Jin-woo (이진우) effectively employs three quite diverse and highly symbolic protagonists to interrogate the sense of alienation and abandonment teens are susceptible to, with the sense of melancholy permeating the narrative heightened by his impressive colour-draining visual aesthetic.

The manner in which director Rhee unifies such disparate youths is potent. Wealthy and intelligent E-seop may appear to be a model student with a bright future, yet his life is devoid of both a mother and emotional connection. His pressurising father, in conjunction with an extremely clinical and sparse homestead, expresses E-seop’s loneliness well. Meanwhile independent and strong-willed Ha-yun is also isolated through her mother’s hospitalisation and a care worker who, ironically, doesn’t particularly care. Gil-su lives alone, living on the profits of petty crime and taking leadership of other youths who have also been disowned and have nowhere to go. The unlikely trio are attracted to each other through their shared sense of desertion and unspoken depression, and director Rhee does a great job in articulating the complexity of their characters without judging them or the decisions that lead them astray.

Ha-yun’s alienation is due to circumstances beyond her control

Yet while Stay With Me is an interesting exploration, it generally feels slight in its examination of youth issues as the narrative focuses primarily on the actions of the present without delving into the psychological trauma of their respective pasts. While it is clear that all the protagonists are burdened with neurosis stemming from years prior, the story doesn’t take the time to reveal or reflect on how such experiences inform their current actions or, perhaps more importantly, why audiences should engage with them. Gil-su suffers the most in this respect and as such becomes little more than a one-dimensional thug, and while E-seop fairs better his characterisation goes little beyond being a well-meaning yet overly sensitive kid with a crush.

Ironically, the most powerful and emotionally resonating story belongs to the character mostly relegated to a supporting role – Ha-yun. Just as with fellow K-competition film To Be Sixteen, the heart of Stay With Me belongs to the strong-willed female protagonist often forced to the sidelines in favour of the male counterparts. While the narrative takes an inordinate amount of time to get there, once the story shifts to hinting at Ha-yun’s abusive past the film becomes ever more compelling, although the manner in which director Rhee employs an increasing amount of violent sexual assault scenarios to allude to her history leaves a lot to be desired. Unfortunately such impetus comes too late in the running time, leading to a somewhat unsatisfying finale for the disaffected youths and audience alike.

Abandoned by parents and society, the youths often find themselves in dangerous situations

Verdict:

Stay With Me is an interesting examination of how teenagers from diverse backgrounds are unified in their sense of alienation and abandonment in modern society. Director Rhee Jin-woo expresses their loneliness well, however the lack of depth applied to the central protagonists results in an examination that feels slight. Fortunately the film finds a heart through the character of Ha-yun yet it arrives too late, making Stay With Me a well-made but slender expose on a timely issue.

★★☆☆☆

16th Jeonju International Film Festival (제16회 전주국제영화제) Festival News Korean Film Festivals 2015 Reviews

May 1, 2015May 17, 2015

— Leave a Comment

To Be Sixteen (소년) – ★★☆☆☆

To Be Sixteen (소년)

With his mother admitted to hospital and unable to communicate well with his layabout father, shy teenager Se-jun (Kim Joo-yeop (김주엽) is adrift in the countryside town in which he resides. His only friend is local bad-boy Jin-young (Jo Ha-seong (조하성), who tends to exploit him more than a genuine pal would. Yet while Se-jun endures the rather one-sided friendship, he also harbours a crush on Jin-young’s girlfriend Su-kyeong (Lee Joo-woo (이주우), presenting her with gifts and kindness she otherwise wouldn’t receive. As the disaffected teens roam the rural area smoking, drinking and enjoying their newly acquired freedom, Su-kyeong confides an intimate secret to Se-jun that threatens to drive them all apart.

To Be Sixteen is a slow-burning yet insightful drama of disaffected teens living on the fringes of society. Director Kim Hyeon-seung (김현승) constructs the isolation and loneliness experienced by contemporary youths extremely well, depicting the angst and frustrations that come with the age through the character of Se-jun, an introverted yet kind-hearted youngster, and the turbulent relationships he has with friends and family that cause immense stress. As a shy teen, rather than confront the injustices he perceives Se-jun instead internalises the negativity they generate. Whether due his mother’s illness or father’s stock market gambling, or the friends that abuse his good nature, Se-jun’s suffering is conveyed through his longing gaze, the washed-out tones and the melancholia that permeates the film.

Se-jun’s crush on Su-kyeong leads to sharing a highly personal story

Unfortunately however, Se-jun simply isn’t an interesting enough protagonist to place at the centre of the narrative. While his personal problems are challenging they are not particularly compelling, whilst the manner in which Se-jun tends to deal with conflict is to remain silent and appear sullen. This results in an inordinate number of dramatic pauses that occur so frequently that the tension generated from them is ultimately diluted, and becomes a source of frustration.

Instead, it is Su-kyeong who is by far the most interesting character within To Be Sixteen, and it’s a shame she is relegated to supporting status when her trajectory is much more engaging. Wonderfully portrayed as equal parts vulnerable and stubbornly independent by actress Lee Joo-woo, Su-kyeong’s story resonates emotionally as well as touching on multiple societal issues within contemporary Korea that open teenage debates far greater than the sources of Se-jun’s angst. As with other K-competition film Stay With Me, it falls to the supporting female role to provide the heart and soul of the film, and it is unfortunate that director Kim didn’t place Su-kyeong as the main protagonist.

To Be Sixteen also contains further issues due to excess. Several scenes and cutaway shots are superfluous and add very little to the proceedings – particularly the finale, of which there seem to be three – while the supporting cast are of such a number that their contributions to the narrative become diminished as they are not explored in greater detail. In this respect bad-boy Jin-young arguably suffers the most, largely disappearing from the film altogether aside from bookending Se-jun’s tale of loneliness, and as such the emotional core of the shy, introverted teen’s story is interesting yet uninspiring.

Se-jun has a great many sources of angst and isolation

Verdict:

To Be Sixteen is a slow-burning yet insightful drama of disaffected teens, expressed through the angst-fuelled story of Se-jun and his strained relationships. Director Kim Hyeon-seung does well in constructing the sense of isolation yet Se-jun’s challenges aren’t especially compelling, especially compared to those of supporting protagonist Su-kyeong. As such, To Be Sixteen is a well-made and interesting yet diluted tale of teenage melancholy.

★★☆☆☆