Reviews – Page 5

May 1, 2015August 30, 2015

With or Without You (춘희막이) – ★★★☆☆

With or Without You (춘희막이)

“Up until the 1960s in Korea, if a woman could not bear a son, it was fairly common to bring in a surrogate mother. Most of the time, after the surrogates birthed a son, they returned home. But sometimes, they did not.” – preface, With or Without You

Exploring the fascinating and oft-ignored facet of surrogacy within Korean history and culture, With or Without You is a highly impressive documentary from director Park Hyuck-jee (박혁지) and is certainly one of the better discoveries in the K-Competition program. As the only documentary within the category there could arguably be a sense of pressure, yet from the moment With or Without You opens the cinematic quality of the film is clearly apparent, and continues to become increasingly compelling throughout the entirety of its running time.

Despite incredibly odd circumstances, the two are inseparable

The film documents the lives of elderly widows Maggi (막이) and Chun-hee (춘희) as they toil in the sweltering heat of the Korean countryside planting and harvesting crops. Their physicality is continually arresting, as their backs are quite literally bent at right angles from decades of farming and their gnarled, labourers fingers still work the soil, a stark contrast with the beautiful landscapes in which they reside. Director Park produces some absolutely exquisite cinematography during the course of the film that wonderfully captures the elegance of the rural area in conjunction with the abject poverty of the local populace, combining to create an array of conflicting emotions that is never anything less than utterly absorbing.

The real power of With or Without You lies in the complex history shared by Maggi and Chun-hee. Maggi – a wonderfully stubborn and cynical, yet kind-hearted woman – explains that in her youth she gave birth to an incredible amount of children in order to continue her husband’s family name, yet through history and circumstance, the male children all died. During that era a family would panic if there were no sons to continue the bloodline, and as such Chun-hee was literally ‘bought’ in order to provide heirs. Yet after giving birth Chun-hee stayed at Maggi’s request, and 46 years later the duo continue to take care of each other. Their history, and the details that gradually emerge over the course of the running time, are powerful insights into a seemingly forgotten cultural practice and resonate poignantly with every revelation.

Widow Maggi still harbors mixed emotions towards younger Chun-hee

Director Kim wisely depicts the great sense of friendship between the women through key scenes, yet isn’t afraid to also employ bizarre comedy of their situation to add levity. Scenes involving Maggi attempting to teach Chun-hee, who has learning difficulties, how to count money are as touching as they are humorous. When they visit a hospital for Chun-hee’s health check and Maggi describes their relationship to the doctor, his facial expression is priceless. With the inclusion of scenes involving their children, director Kim manages to touch on the potent social issue of the uninterested in caring for elderly relatives, a reality that ironically forces both ladies closer and making their interactions even more heart-warming and astute.

Yet With or Without You is not without faults. Just as with last year’s hit documentary My Love, Don’t Cross That River, the film doesn’t delve further into the incredible history of both the central protagonists and the era in which they met, which are missed opportunities, while the issues involving children would benefit from greater exploration. That said however, With or Without You is a charming and poignant documentary, and one which exposes a largely forgotten yet pivotal role women played in the continuation of Korean bloodlines.

The bond shared between Maggi and Chun-hee is as heart-warming as it is unbreakable

Verdict:

With or Without You is a fascinating and absorbing documentary regarding the role of surrogacy in Korean history. Director Park Hyuck-jee employs exquisite cinematography in depicting the lives of elderly farmers Maggi and Chun-hee, two charismatic and resolute women whose complicated history is continually poignant. While the film occasionally misses opportunities to explore said history in further detail, With or Without You is still certainly one of the better discoveries at JIFF 2015.

★★★☆☆

May 1, 2015July 2, 2015

— 2 Comments

Alice in Earnestland (성실한 나라의 앨리스) – ★★☆☆☆

Alice in Earnestland (성실한 나라의 앨리스)

Full of high hopes and ambitions for the future, Soo-nam’s (Lee Jung-hyun (이정현) expectations are rapidly shattered in quick succession after graduating high school. Armed with already-outdated skills, Soo-nam is forced to work in accounting at a factory where ironic misfortune leads to meeting her future husband, while even greater calamities that ensue take them both on downward spiral. Yet despite all odds there is a glimmer of hope. A redevelopment proposal offers the solution to all Soo-nam’s woes…but how far is she willing to go to ensure its success?

Desperate, Soo-nam takes drastic action

From the moment the film opens, director Ahn Gooc-jin (안국진) establishes Alice in Earnestland as a wonderfully quirky and uniquely surreal dark comedy of a desperate woman on the edge. Divided into chapters while relaying Soo-nam’s tragi-comic life via a series of flashbacks, the film is – as the Jeonju Film Festival describes it – something of “a cruel fairytale,” depicting the humorously twisted fate that befalls the optimistic heroine as she endeavours to create a life of dignity. Director Ahn initially infuses the story with enthusiastic kineticism through rapid camerawork and editing that serve to generate a lot of fun and intrigue to the tale, while Soo-min’s perseverance – and her delightfully charismatic innocence aptly conveyed by actress Lee Jung-hyun – in the face of such terrible irony is particularly endearing.

Soo-nam remains optimistic even in the face of darkly comic irony

While at first Alice in Earnestland entertains through a quirky balance of melancholy humour and visual dynamism, the story loses its way towards the conclusion of chapter one by delving too deeply into the dark terrain with which it flirts, and as a result struggles for the remainder of the film to achieve the comedy buoyancy that initially made it so promising. The film rapidly eschews the eccentricities that made it so appealing to become mired down in local politics and enter particularly dark territory, as the jovial tone spirals into scenes of physical assault, torture, and other forms of abuse, and while director Ahn consistently attempts to inject black comedy into the narrative to lighten the mood, the macabre events ultimately outweigh them.

The final two chapters are of merit however as the darkly morbid situations allow director Ahn to take comical jabs at pertinent issues in Korean society, particularly in regards to issues of finance, health care and redevelopment. The narrative sets up the obstacles challenging Soo-nam as people who prioritise wealth and power, and the film works well as an underdog story as she independently takes on all challenges armed with nothing but an optimistic smile and a drive to succeed. It is largely due to Soo-nam’s endearing qualities that the final act, which flounders somewhat laboriously in a redevelopment scandal, is compelling enough to keep audiences interested until the credits roll.

Redevelopment of the area sees Soo-nam’s story enter darker territory

Verdict:

Alice in Earnestland begins as a quirky and surreal dark comedy by director Ahn Gooc-jin, who initially infuses the film with an infectious vibrancy before the narrative tone spirals into darker, more macabre territory and spends the resulting running time struggling to capture the promising comic buoyancy of the opening. Yet actress Lee Jung-hyun’s charismatic performance as optimistic heroine Soo-nam is delightful, and is enough to keep audiences engaged until the credits roll.

★★☆☆☆

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

March 29, 2015May 17, 2015

— 2 Comments

Bedevilled (김복남 살인사건의 전말) – ★★★★☆

Bedevilled (김복남 살인사건의 전말)

Stressed from city life and witnessing an horrific case of misogynistic violence, attractive thirty-something Hae-won (Hwang Geum-hee (황금희) is forced by her employer into taking vacation time to recuperate. At a loss what to do, Hae-won finally decides to acknowledge the requests from her oldest friend Bok-nam (Seo Yeong-hee (서영희) and return to her hometown, a small island off the coast of Korea that is home to a mostly-elderly farming community. Yet upon her arrival Hae-won quickly begins to notice the strange machinations of the villagers as well as the scandalous torture and abuse Bok-nam receives daily, until a further terrible tragedy occurs that has bloodcurdling ramifications for them all.

Bok-nam is overjoyed when childhood friend Hae-won returns to the island

The story of Bedevilled – or more literally translated as The Whole Story of the Kim Bok-nam Murder Case – is one of those special cinematic events that occurs far too rarely in the film industry. The debut feature by director Jang Cheol-soo (who had previously assisted indie master Kim Ki-duk), with a meagre ₩700 million ($636,363) budget and no big named stars (reportedly Kim Hye-soo and Jeon Do-yeon both turned down roles), Bedevilled ultimately premiered to high praise at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival as part of International Critics’ Week. From there, the horror/thriller toured a further 18 festivals across five continents, secured a host of awards for director Jang and lead actress Seo Yeong-hee, as well as hauling an impressive $1,130,829 at the Korean box office during its run.

The film’s success is wholly deserved and is chiefly due to the manner in which the narrative seamlessly merges socially-conscious, feminist drama with popular generic conventions. Through the character of Bok-nam, Bedevilled repeatedly reveals the numerous ways in which women are psychologically, emotionally, physically and sexually abused, not only by antagonists symbolic of patriarchal culture but also through the acceptance of such abuse as ‘normal’ by older generations of women. While men are often the perpetrators of shocking physical tortures on kindly Bok-nam, it’s the cruel words of the female elders, who scold her for attempting to deviate from abuse, that truly inspire internal torment and anger within the persecuted young woman and force audiences to engage and empathise with her plight.

Women on the rural island community are forced to endure horrific abuse, particularly kindly Bok-nam

Director Jang Cheol-soo and screenwriter Choi Kwan-yeong brilliantly build tension through depicting such abhorrent treatment, exploring the cruelties endured by women in isolated rural communities in ways both insightful and creative, escalating the drama to unbearable levels until the narrative takes a dramatic turn into bloodthirsty – and very much cathartic – genre territory. Ironically the tonal shift feels simultaneously shocking yet wholly natural, due to the intensification of atrocities combined with actress Seo Yeong-hee’s sympathetic turn as Bok-nam, as despite the gore it’s impossible not to support her murderous rampage and she hacks her way through those who have wronged her with palpable feminist righteousness.

Seo Yeong-hee received a number of awards at home and abroad for her performance within Bedevilled, and she certainly equips herself well as the put-upon Bok-nam. Seo manages to make the character more than simply a victim of terrible oppression by conveying Bok-nam’s inherent strength and fierce loyalty in the face of adversity. This is all the more impressive given that her screen time is somewhat limited due to the initial narrative alignment that focuses on Hae-won, before jarringly altering to Bok-nam’s tale of hardship. It is however a wise move, as Hwang Geum-hee’s Hae-won is particularly cold and serves the story much better in a supporting role. The rest of the cast are also highly effective in their performances and seem to take great enjoyment in portraying the villainous islanders. Of special note is Baek Soo-ryeon as the evil matriarch, who is a real joy to hate.

Yet Bedevilled is not without faults. The narrative structure is at times unbalanced, and on occasion seems to forget that certain characters exist as they disappear for periods of time before they suddenly reemerge or simply never return, as is the case with one such role. In terms of directing, the film is quite rough around the edges, but interestingly this is also part of the charm. However despite such issues, the central feminist concerns shine through and leave a lasting impression thanks to a wonderfully executed scene in which the island and Hae-won’s body are faded into each other to create a powerful metaphor, and some highly charged bookend scenes in which the notion of sisterhood is emphasised in order to improve women’s rights.

Despite the bloodshed, Bok-nam’s feminist rampage is wonderfully cathartic

Verdict:

Bedevilled is a brilliantly entertaining debut by director Jang Cheol-soo. The success of the film lies in the way the narrative seamlessly merges a socially-conscious, feminist drama with popular horror/thriller generic conventions. Featuring a wonderful performance by Seo Yeong-hee who conveys the innate strength of oppressed women who are pushed too far, and with violence that is cathartic and enjoyable rather than repulsive, Bedevilled is a fantastically entertaining film that leaves a strong and lasting impression.

★★★★☆

Reviews

March 15, 2015March 29, 2015

— 1 Comment

The Thieves (도둑들) – ★★★☆☆

The Thieves (도둑들)

Following a spectacularly daring art heist, criminal Popie (Lee Jeong-jae (이정재) and his band of thieves – Yenicall (Jeon Ji-hyeon (전지현), Jampano (Kim Soo-hyeon (김수현) and Chewing Gum (Kim Hae-sook (김해숙) – have too much heat on them to operate in Korea for the foreseeable future. Yet as luck would have it, a job offer in Macau arises from master thief and former associate Macao Park (Kim Yoon-seok (김윤석). Joined by safecracker Pepsee (Kim Hye-soo (김혜수), the gang join forces with a team of Chinese bandits to steal a $20 million diamond named ‘The Tear of the Sun.’ Yet Macao’s plans to sell the diamond back to owner and ruthless mobster Wei Hong, as well as the alternative agendas of everyone within the team, results in a crime caper that goes anything but smoothly.

The team gathers to prepare for their latest heist – to steal ‘The Tear of the Sun’ from a mob boss

When The Thieves was released back in the summer of 2012, it rapidly became a cinematic phenomenon. Within its opening weekend the film had grossed over 2 million admissions; on its ninth day, The Thieves became the most attended Korean film of the 2012 before beating that record four days later by becoming the top selling film of the year. 22 days after release the crime caper joined the elite ’10 million admissions’ club, before passing 12 million 11 days later. At the end of its theatrical run The Thieves had taken almost $83 million at the Korean box office, as well as becoming the second most attended film in Korean history at the time. The success and popularity were unprecedented, yet that aside, is it any good?

The Thieves is a noble effort at producing an entertaining all-star international crime caper. Writer/director Choi Dong-hoon has established himself as a success within the genre for quite some time with The Big Swindle and Tazza: The High Rollers, however The Thieves marks an altogether different, more Hollywood-esque, approach for the filmmaker and it’s one that has paid enormous dividends to his career. The pleasure of witnessing some of the Korean industry’s biggest stars interacting and attempting to outwit each other in exotic locations is particularly enjoyable, often – and especially the case for 12 million domestic viewers – taking attention away from the frustratingly convoluted narrative. Juggling such an inordinate amount of actors is an impressive feat and director Choi does his very best to give every character a history and motivation, some of which works well amongst an array of superfluous tangents, and while occasionally entertaining it also serves to create periods where precious little actually occurs as well as to make The Thieves acutely overly long.

Safecracker Pepse and thief Popie make a play for the diamond

One of the reasons attributed to the success of The Thieves is the presence of Jeon Ji-hyeon and her flirtatious relationship with heartthrob Kim Soo-hyeon (indeed, their chemistry together later translated into incredibly lucrative TV drama You Came From the Stars). While the crime caper is a great comeback vehicle for Jeon, who has clearly been selected to bring sex appeal both on and off screen, her and Kim Soo-hyeon appear rather sporadically throughout. Instead, it is Kim Hye-soo who steals the limelight in terms of both beauty and allure as well as in forming the emotional centre of the film. Her appearances within the film are magnetic and amongst all the betrayals and double-dealings that arise, her steadfast character provides a stabilising core that is sorely needed. Ultimately however the simply excessive amount of characters weighs the story down, and The Thieves would have benefited from jettisoning several of them – particularly the Chinese criminals, who bring little to the story – and developing the core team instead.

Yet The Thieves really hits its stride in the wonderfully kinetic final act, where all the various parties involved in the diamond heist collide with extreme effect. The acrobatic wire-work battles and blazing stand-offs with criminals brandishing automatic weapons are impressive, and are consistently highly entertaining, silly, fun. It’s pure popcorn cinema, and director Choi does an excellent job in constructing an enjoyable finale while still keeping to the spirit of Korean crime caper.

Flexible wire work thief Yenicall brings deceptive sex appeal

Verdict:

The Thieves is an entertaining crime caper, and a real pleasure to witness some of the best stars in Korea go head-to-head in ‘winner take all’ race to the finish. Director Choi Dong-hoon juggles the excessive cast well throughout the convoluted narrative, yet tedium does occasionally appear during the overly long running time. The Thieves is pure popcorn cinema, and consistently entertaining, silly, fun.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

February 24, 2015March 7, 2015

— 2 Comments

10 Minutes (10분) – ★★★★☆

10 Minutes (10분)

Although working hard to achieve his dream of becoming a TV producer, Kang Ho-chan (Baek Jong-hwan (백종환) takes an intern position at a company to help alleviate his family’s difficult financial situation. With his retired father refusing to work and with mounting debts threatening to leave his family homeless, Ho-chan works diligently at the company quickly becoming well-liked, and it’s not long before he’s offered a full-time position at the government-run organisation. Struggling between choosing his dream or filial responsibility, Ho-chan makes the ultimate sacrifice yet is shocked to discover the position he was promised has been given to someone else.

Ho-chan joins the rat race, despite his dream of becoming a PD

10 Minutes (10분) is a fascinating exploration of the contemporary Korean workplace, highlighting many of the incredibly frustrating issues that employees are forced to endure in order to secure a stable livelihood. Capably helmed by director Lee Yong-seung who focuses on constructing realism with skill, it is screenwriter Kim Da-hyeon’s insightful script that is simply excellent in bringing office politics to life, drawing attention to problems both big and small in gradually building Ho-chan’s angst to a palpably tense crescendo.

While 10 Minutes begins rather slowly, the often ridiculous nature of company work is captured superbly ranging from the director’s displeasure at the quality of cakes (rather than the content of the presentation) and the conflicting tasks Ho-chan is required to undertake, through to more serious fare of lies and slander, denial of responsibility, and corruption. Yet Kim also impressively manages to balance such workplace ire with an examination of family poverty in Seoul, and the reliance on loans as a form of paradoxical debt relief. Just as tension in the office grows so to does it develop in the household, as the burden placed on Ho-chan’s shoulders as the eldest in the family to save them from destitution becomes intolerable. The narrative consistently and boldly challenges the problems young adults face as the product of patriarchal entitlement and, underscored with Ho-chan’s dilemma between following his dream or committing to the life of a salaryman, provocatively addresses the fundamental causes behind the disillusionment and frustration of contemporary youth. With 10 Minutes, Kim Da-hyeon emerges as an exciting new talent to watch.

Office politics become increasingly tense from issues both big and small

Such a well-balanced narrative would be of little consequence were it not ably performed, and in that sense 10 Minutes also does not disappoint. As Ho-chan, actor Baek Jong-hwan is particularly impressive. For much of the initial running time Beak’s stoicism belies his talent, yet as stress increasingly generates in both his professional and private life his silent internalised fury is captivating, as if a powder keg waiting to explode, and is genuinely suspenseful. Actress Lee Si-won is a joy to hate in her supporting role as Song Eun-hye, exacerbating Ho-chan’s anger with wry smiles and snide acts of kindness that are anything but. She wonderfully conveys a snarky superiority through gestures, tone and ‘aegyo’ (performance of cuteness) and, combined with her ability to manipulate the office, embodies many of things that makes Korean workplaces so difficult to navigate.

With 10 Minutes so focused on the problems created by patriarchy, it’s a great relief to say that the actors involved deftly rise to the occasion. As the director of the company Kim Jong-goo is delightfully cowardly, bowing to the whims of his superior and berating his subordinates even while aware of the truth, making his faux smiles and promises ever more frustrating. Yet it is Jeong Hee-tae as the head of the labor union who steals the show. Jeong’s turn as the friendly yet deceptive union leader is brilliant and a real highlight of the film, perfectly encapsulating the issues of entitlement and selfishness so often ascribed to middle aged men.

Ho-chan’s fury at his situation leads him down a lonely path

Verdict:

10 Minutes is an impressive indie film exploring the frustrations involved in the contemporary Korean workplace. Director Lee Yeong-song helms the events well, yet it is Kim Da-hyeon’s insightful script that steals the spotlight and presents her as a talent to watch. With penetrative awareness of office culture, family dynamics and disillusioned youth, 10 Minutes is a refreshingly frank and timely drama.

★★★★☆

Reviews

February 10, 2015March 4, 2015

— Leave a Comment

Chronicle of a Blood Merchant (허삼관) – ★★☆☆☆

Chronicle of a Blood Merchant (허삼관)

In 1953, Gongju City is in the process of rebuilding following the devastating war. Resting for lunch with his fellow workers, Sam-gwan (Ha Jeong-woo (하정우) is ridiculed for his status as a bachelor. Yet upon seeing beautiful Ok-ran (Ha Ji-won (하지원) he becomes instantly smitten and determined to marry her and, after acquiring money through selling his blood and striking a deal with her father, Sam-gwan and Ok-ran are wed. 11 years later, the couple live in relative harmony with their three sons, until a rumour spreads through the village that their eldest boy Il-rak (Nam Da-reum (남다름) actually belongs to Ok-ran’s ex-suitor. As the household is thrown into turmoil by the news, Sam-gwan again finds himself selling blood as the family are forced to redefine their relationships.

Sam-gwan falls for the most beautiful girl in the village, Ok-ran

Based on Yu Hua’s 1995 novel, Chronicle of a Blood Merchant is Ha Jeong-woo’s second attempt at writing and directing duties following Fasten Your Seatbelt and, while generally competently helmed and produced, the comedy-drama features truly abysmal and outrageous sexual politics, plot holes galore, and an intensely dislikable ‘hero’ in the form of Ha’s Sam-gwan.

The premise of Blood Merchant is centered around raising an illegitimate child, and the narrative consistently attempts and fails to generate comedy from the situation. After hearing the rumours regarding eldest son Il-rak’s parentage, Sam-gwan confronts his wife demanding answers and as Ok-ran reluctantly explains how an ex-suitor forced himself upon her, the film has the gall to focus on Sam-gwan’s suffering as a man who didn’t marry a virgin as well as raise a boy biologically not his own. The narrative intends to generate humour by inferring Sam-gwan is a victim of humiliation rather than focusing on Ok-ran’s suffering from the legacy of sexual assault, a strategy which is completely appalling particularly as a source of entertainment. The fact that Sam-gwan then spends the rest of the film punishing Ok-ran for being raped by sulking as well as virtually disowning Il-rak makes the character particularly despicable and impossible to empathise with. It’s a creative decision from which Blood Merchant never recovers and, following on from Sam-gwan’s almost literal ‘purchase’ of Ok-ran in the first act, the comedy-drama is anything but enlightened.

Sam-gwan and eldest boy Il-rak attempt to redefine their relationship

Things change in the finale however as Blood Merchant opts for the oft-used cliche of poor health in order to bring the family together once more. As both writer and director Ha works hard to generate sentiment though the use of melodramatic conventions which work well, yet as Sam-gwan has behaved so dreadfully leading up to the resolution it is especially difficult to invest in his journey, let alone consider him the hero and saviour of the family. Furthermore the gaps in logic are particularly puzzling, for if any man were to undertake the tasks Sam-gwan does, death would be an absolute certainty.

In terms of star power, both Ha Jeong-woo and Ha Ji-won perform capably. Unfortunately they lack any sort of onscreen chemistry and the narrative doesn’t really create opportunities for it to arise, yet individually they do well despite the lack of characterisation. Their presence in Blood Merchant should guarantee that the film will be a greater success than Fasten Your Seatbelt, though ironically the film isn’t really theirs but young actor Nam Da-reum’s. Nam is the heart and soul of the film and it’s his performance as eldest son Il-rak that makes Blood Merchant watchable and entertaining.

The sale of blood helps the family through tough times

Verdict:

Chronicle of a Blood Merchant is Ha Jeong-woo’s second foray as writer/director, and while he competently helms the comedy drama the shameful sexual politics within the film results in an intensely dislikable lead protagonist. It’s an issue from which the comedy-drama never recovers despite the inclusion of traditional melodramatic conventions in the final act, yet luckily the film is made watchable through the performance of young actor Nam Da-reum.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews

February 9, 2015September 7, 2015

— Leave a Comment

The Royal Tailor (상의원) – ★★★☆☆

The Royal Tailor (상의원)

Three years have passed since the death of the king, and with the mourning period now officially over the new monarch (Yoo Yeon-seok (유연석) commissions a special new dragon robe from royal tailor Jo Dol-seok (Han Seok-Kyu (한석규). Having crafted royal attire for 30 years, commoner Dol-seok is on the verge of becoming a nobleman, the reward for a lifetime of service. Yet the abrupt arrival of new and highly sought after tailor Gong-jin (Ko Soo (고수), with his fancy contemporary designs and custom-made fittings, place Dol-seok’s position in jeopardy. Animosity between the two arises when the queen (Park Shin-hye (박신혜) announces her need for a tailor and Gong-jin is presented with the task, however the young upstarts disregard for the Confucian rules of the time may well spell trouble.

Dol-seok has crafted royal attire for 30 years and is finally on the verge of nobility

The Royal Tailor is a vibrant and unique addition to the Korean period drama canon, one that is consistently visually stimulating and bustling with ideas yet one which is also often directionless.

Director Lee Won-seok (이원석) and cinematographer Kim Ji-young deserve praise for crafting such a distinctive and striking film. The beautiful assortments of colour that permeate scenes featuring tailory are truly gorgeous, often combining with a keen sense of symmetry that makes The Royal Tailor a real treat for the eyes. The variation of such impressive colours and designs applied to hanbok also make the drama a fitting tribute to the traditional attire, revering it both as iconic as well as a symbol of cultural elegance.

One of the great strengths of The Royal Tailor, and one that makes it so entertaining, is the progressive attitude laced throughout the narrative which is often expressed through hanbok itself. Through the distinctly Korean conflict between traditionalist Dol-seok and the actions of rebellious contemporary Gong-jin, the period tale seeks to poke fun at the Confucian ideals of the era, employing fashion and feminist issues to push the boundaries of oppression. Rather controversially for a film set in such an era, director Lee provocatively conveys that strict adherence to tradition halts development even at the most basic level – a scene in which actor Ma Dong-seok parades like a peacock in his latest hanbok while his sleeves are too long to pour and consume beverages is frankly hilarious – and conveys the playfully nature in which he mocks and scrutinises the rigidity of the time.

Through colourful stylish hanbok, rebellious tailor Gong-jin pushes Confucian boundaries

Director Lee infuses The Royal Tailor with an energetic flamboyance reminiscent of his excellent prior rom-com How To Use Guys With Secret Tips, yet perhaps due to Secret Tips‘ modest returns and/or the conventions of the period film, he appears to lack the confidence to fully commit to his whimsically comedic vision here. Instead he injects his unique flair through a handful of select scenes which are hit-and-miss, as the film flits between typical genre fare and more surrealist postmodern sensibilities, resulting in a film which has something of an identity crisis. This is a quite unfortunate as director Lee is one of the more unique talents to emerge from the industry in recent years, and seeing his aesthetics restrained is a real shame.

The drama also suffers in a narrative sense due to the lack of characterisation and the absence of a strong trajectory. The protagonists, and the story, tends to meander and while the situations and debates that arise are entertaining, the film feels directionless and in need of a more defined central plot. As such the actors are under-utilised, particularly Park Shin-hye who suffers the most in this regard as there is little for her to do other than appear sad and pretty.

Yet The Royal Tailor ends with a surprisingly potent finale, one which directly challenges the very concept of history and leaves a particularly lasting impression. In forcing audiences to question the very foundations of their national and cultural identity, director Lee makes a bold statement that the past and the truth are not always the same.

In the conflict between traditional and progressive, how is history created?

Verdict:

The Royal Tailor is a unique and vibrant period drama by director Lee Won-Seok who comedically uses the fashion of the era to mock and push the oppressive boundaries of Confucian norms. While the use of colour is a visual treat and the film is infused with a handful of wonderfully whimsical scenes, The Royal Tailor is often directionless due to issues with the narrative and characterisation. Yet the drama ends on a high note that examines the concept of history and as such The Royal Tailor leaves a lasting impression.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

February 9, 2015March 15, 2015

— 3 Comments

C’est Si Bon (쎄시봉) – ★★☆☆☆

C’est si bon (쎄시봉)

Twin Folio, the legendary ’60s duo that emerged from Seoul music cafe C’est Si Bon, is due to be the subject of a television show. Yet when music producer Lee Jang-hee, the man responsible for their creation, is quizzed about the rumour of an original third member, he begins to reminisce about the era. Back in the ’60s, C’est Si Bon was the hottest place in the city to listen to folk song competitions. With his silky voice Yun Hyeong-ju (Kang Ha-neul (강하늘) was the star of the cafe, until newcomer Song Chang-sik (Jo Bok-rae (조복래) instigates a rivalry. With their clashing egos a duo would be impossible, and as such Jang-hee (Jin Goo (진구) enlists talented country boy Oh Gun-tae (Jeong Woo (정우) to make a trio. Their inability to work together changes when beautiful aspiring actress Min Ja-yeong (Han Hyo-joo (한효주) enters the club, inspiring them to collaborate and become one of the most successful bands of the era.

The original trio learn to collaberate due to their muse Ja-yeong

C’est Si Bon is something of a love letter to the vibrant music scene of 1960s/70s Seoul, one that attempts to capture the spirit of the era through the story of the renowned cafe. Generally it succeeds, particularly in the opening act as there is much enjoyment to be had in witnessing the titular music arena being introduced, the band coming together and egos clashing. The C’est Si Bon cafe is a wonderfully charismatic and dynamic place due to some quite lovely set and costume design, helmed competently by director Kim Hyeon-Seok (김현석) who is likely hoping for the same success as his prior romantic endeavour Cyrano Agency.

Yet following an enjoyable 30 minutes, the film eschews the fun and vitality of the music scene to descend into a cliched romantic tale. As the members of the band all fall in love with Ja-yeong and attempt to out-perform each other to win her affection, the story moves away from the enjoyment of the band’s origins to become a standard rom-com. To be fair to Han Hyo-joo, she is absolutely stunning throughout and has rarely looked better, however due to the focus applied to her as the muse of so many admirers, C’est Si Bon consistently feels like a vanity project for the actress. Ironically however, as Ja-yeong tends to use and manipulate the men in her life as they constantly try to impress her, the result is an attractive but not a particularly likeable lead female protagonist which significantly lessens the romantic appeal.

Ja-yeong is the muse of seemingly everyone at music cafe C’est Si Bon

Recently in Korean cinema a greater number of films are being produced with older audiences in mind which is welcome news for diversity, and C’est Si Bon fits neatly within the paradigm. Yet the film also perpetuates the disturbing trend of romanticising Korea’s totalitarian past. Curfews, police brutality and authoritarianism, and even scenes of intimidation reminiscent of prelude to torture, feature within the narrative. However due to the romantic-comedy contrivances of the film such issues are presented as nostalgia, alarmingly either employed for humour or simply glossed over.

Things change from bad to worse for C’est Si Bon in the final act through the inclusion of scenes set in America, years after the rise and fall of the famous cafe. Apart from feeling acutely tacked on and frankly dull, the sequences are unintentionally, and quite literally, laughable. For instance, during highly emotional scenes between veteran actors Kim Hee-ae and Kim Yoon-seok are some incredibly poorly timed interludes by bad American actors that simply destroy all tension and instead generate laughter. As such, C’est Si Bon ends on a sour note, despite the initial enjoyment and promise displayed in the first act.

Years after the rise and fall of the cafe, Geun-tae performs in America

Verdict:

C’est Si Bon is a love letter to the vibrant music scene that existed in Korea in the 1960s, with a particularly enjoyable first act that introduces the styles and catchy music of the era, as well as the formation of the band Twin Folio. Yet director Kim Hyeon-seok’s film oddly eschews such promise by later descending into bland rom-com cliches and romanticising Korea’s totalitarian past, before ending with an unintentionally funny and quite poor finale.

★★☆☆☆

Reviews

February 4, 2015February 24, 2015

— 2 Comments

My Love, Don’t Cross That River (님아, 그 강을 건너지 마오) – ★★★☆☆

My Love, Don’t Cross That River (님아, 그 강을 건너지 마오)

At the end of 2014, Korean cinema witnessed an astonishing feat – documentary My Love, Don’t Cross That River (님아, 그 강을 건너지 마오) shattered the record to become the most successful Korean independent film in history. The surprise came largely from the initial humble opening. Premiering at the DMZ Documentary Film Festival in September, the film was finally released on November 27th against Hollywood heavyweights Interstellar, The Hunger Games: Mocking Jay Part 1 and Fury on a paltry 186 screens. Yet the fervent positive word of mouth that quickly surrounded My Love generated interest on such a scale that the documentary acquired a place in the top ten for the entire winter period, culminating in an incredible haul of over 4.7 million admissions and 34.3 million won. Compared to previous record holder Old Partner’s 17.5 million won take, the magnitude of My Love’s success is impossible to ignore.

98 year old Byeong-man and 89 year old Gye-yeol are inseparable even after 76 years of marriage

My Love, Don’t Cross That River is an incredibly charismatic documentary by director Jin Mo-young (진모영), with it’s deceptively simple structure and strong emotional resonance clearly the reasoning behind how the film struck a chord with audiences during it’s impressive theatrical run. Yet while the documentary is sweet, poignant, and in many ways acutely romantic, My Love’s success is also somewhat puzzling.

My Love affectionately depicts the final years of the relationship between 98 year old Jo Byeong-nam and 89 year old Kang Gye-yeol who, after 76 years of marriage, still behave as newlyweds. When the couple go out, they always sport matching hanbok. When chores are undertaken, they jokingly play tricks on each other. When they settle down for the night, they fall asleep holding hands. The elderly couple are unspeakably endearing and are a real joy to watch as they cheerfully continue their countryside existence, despite the hardships old age brings. Their devotion is palpable, displayed through loving glances, body language and cute moments that consistently prove to be heartwarming. Combined with the photogenic backdrop of the picturesque countryside, My Love is visually as well as emotionally stimulating and is quite the moving tale.

The endearing couple play with flowers in Spring

Amongst such cheerful scenes however is the occasional sense of contrivance, which chiefly appears due to the camerawork. Byeong-man is a loveable rascal and likes to play tricks on his wife, yet as the camera quickly tracks around the couple to capture his pranks, as well as rather obvious editing cuts that capture that action from another angle, it feels as if the couple are being asked to perform for the camera which tends to undermine the purpose of the documentary. Luckily such moments aren’t frequent, and the film quickly corrects itself once the focus shifts back to more natural, authentic situations.

The simplicity of My Love is very appealing as the daily lives and the indomitable spirits of the elderly couple are documented, yet there is also a enormous amount of unexplored potential just begging to be uncovered, which unfortunately never achieves fruition. Aside from two wonderfully illuminating conversations in which Gye-yeol discusses how she and Byeong-man first met and married, as well as the amount of children they conceived, the film doesn’t really delve into their undoubtedly fascinating history to give audiences a sense of who they are. Hints to the tremendous amount of experience the couple have endured are alluded to at various junctures, however director Jin instead chooses to focus on the here and now which results in a romantic, poignant, emotionally resonating tale, albeit one that could have benefited from greater depth.

The indomitable spiritis of Byeong-man and Gye-yeol are heartwarming

Verdict:

My Love, Don’t Cross That River is a record-breaking triumph for the independent sector as the most successful non-commercial film in Korean cinema history. Director Jin Mo-young’s endearing documentary about the charismatic relationship of elderly couple Byeong-man and Gye-yeol is wonderfully heartwarming and romantic as they act like newlyweds despite their ages. However My Love‘s occasional contrivances and unexplored potential stop audiences from truly knowing the couple, resulting in a simple yet emotionally resonant tale.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

January 24, 2015February 9, 2015

— Leave a Comment

The Seashore Village (갯마을) – ★★★★★

The Seashore Village (갯마을)

In a small and humble seashore village, the local fisherman gather together to prepare for a hard day’s work on the ocean waves. As their wives bid them farewell, a pregnant woman warns her husband of a terrible dream she had the previous night, yet her anxiety is heeded merely as superstition. Young bride Hae-soon (고은아), married for just 10 days, prays to the Dragon God of the sea to protect the fisherman from harm. However her piety goes unanswered as later that day a typhoon strikes, killing several of the men and making widows of many of the inhabitants of the village, Hae-soon included. While still in mourning, Hae-soon’s beauty catches the attention of nomad Sang-soo (신영균), whose lust for the young widow leads them both down a tragic path.

The wives anxiously wait for the return of the fishermen

The wives anxiously await the return of the fishermen

The Seashore Village is an absolutely stunning classic melodrama by much-celebrated director Kim Soo-yong (김수용). Earning the Best Film accolade at the 1965 Daejong (Grand Bell) Awards, the film’s victory is far from surprising given the emotional story of familial duty and personal survival, alongside simply breathtaking cinematography that features throughout.

The Seashore Village is a staggering visual achievement, with shots that are routinely wonderfully composed. In highlighting the arduous hand-to-mouth daily struggles to survive and the humble yet cheerful lives of those living on the coastline in the 1960s, director Kim captures a world unto itself, particularly as those inland were dealing with the rapid issues of modernisation. The film functions as both compelling entertainment and history lesson, articulating a lifestyle far removed from expanding urbanisation and development, one in which prayers to Dragon Gods of the sea for protection are common and community spirit for working together to obtain food is prevalent. The aesthetics and compositions are consistently fascinating throughout, featuring traditional hanok homes and lifestyles, old boats and fishing methods, and renowned female divers all in conjunction with the glorious coastline. The Seashore Village is a genuine visual treat.

The cinematography is beautifully constructed and portrays a world unto itself

The story is one of director Kim’s first literary adaptations, an approach that would see him earn a highly respected reputation as the ‘master of literary films’, and is a probing examination of the roles of women, marriage, family, and society. The narrative itself is deceptively simplistic yet reveals much about such features through Hae-soon’s status as a young widow, and as a community set apart from the mainland. While Confucian ideals and familial piety are present they are not prevalent, as the seashore society is decidedly liberal for the era. The women in the village are mostly single widows having lost their husbands at sea, and their frank discussions about fulfilling their sexual desires and needs, as well as supporting themselves through diving for shellfish, is surprisingly progressive especially for ’60s Korea.

That said, The Seashore Village also frequently employs rape as a device for spurring on the narrative, with its recurrent use particularly upsetting. As a young widow and the most beautiful woman in the village, Hee-soon attracts the unwanted advances of drifter Sang-soo who simply will not accept rejection, with his repeated attempts to force himself upon her quite distressing. More troublesome however is that upon Sang-soo’s success, Hae-soon discovers an awakened, unbridled passion. Her beauty is typically the catalyst for further attempted rape and conflict throughout the film, and within such terrible events the brutish Sang-soo is characterised as a saviour and protector figure, yet given his history it is tough to take such a leap. It is for such reasons that, while The Seashore Village is a stunning example of classic Korean melodrama, the film doesn’t stand the test of time as much as its peers.

Drifter Sang-soo develops a dangerous attraction to the young and beautiiful Hae-soon

Verdict:

The Seashore Village is a beautifully composed and visually stunning classic melodrama by director Kim Soo-yong. The film is incredible in constructing a world away from the rapid modernity overtaking inner cities, capturing the traditional society’s humble, laborious, and surprisingly liberated community. While The Seashore Village also features some particularly progressive ideals concerning female independence and sexuality (considering the era), the narrative also unfortunately employs rape as a frequent device which is troublesome. A classic, though one that doesn’t stand the test of time as well as its peers.

★★★★★

You can watch The Seashore Village on youtube courtesy of The Korean Film Archive by clicking here.

Reviews