Korean documentary

May 28, 2017January 28, 2019

Blue Butterfly Effect (파란나비효과) – ★★★★☆

Blue Butterfly Effect

When the Korean and American governments announce that the military THAAD (Terminal High Altitude Area Defense) system is to be located in the rural county of Seongju, residents quickly become alarmed. As the local citizens begin researching the issue further they become increasingly politically aware, ultimately organising protests against THADD that continue to grow in strength and number. Blue Butterfly Effect (파란나비효과) documents the protests against THADD, from its grass-roots origins through to the nationwide coverage the issue generated.

The protests grow throughout the province

Director Park Moon-chil, who debuted with the wonderfully sensitive and empowering My Place (2013), returns with an inspiring tale of protest in Blue Butterfly Effect and in doing so cements his status as one of the best documentary filmmakers currently working in Korean cinema.

Blue Butterfly Effect proves to be so engaging largely due to the central subjects at the core of the story, as housewives, farmers, seamstresses et al from the community come together to explain how they became aware of THADD, detailing the passion and outrage it generated that ultimately led to forming a protest movement. Such scenes are brilliantly executed, providing not only an informative piece on the nature of the issue but also an insightful commentary on protest culture within contemporary Korea.

Protesters demand answers

Blue ribbons are crafted to raise awareness

Director Park wisely goes beyond purely representing their opinions of THADD however, as he delves into the subjects’ voting habits, regional identity, and the increasing political and historical awareness each member experiences, unveiling acute character development. No matter how big the challenges over THADD become, the film never loses focus of the personal dimensions of the conflict, making the story an intimate portrait of nationwide debate and virtually demands audience investment.

In documenting the manner in which the THADD protests and responses escalate, director Park goes where few filmmakers dare to tread in depicting the ‘dirty tricks’ employed by those in favour of the military technology. In presenting the ways local politicians change stance and ‘spin’ alternative narratives, the collusion between the government and big business, as well as featuring elitist prejudice – misogynistic comments, and the head of the Education Ministry’s comment that 99% of Koreans are “like dogs and pigs” – combine to produce a startling portrait of modern politics, one that taps into the zeitgeist of anti-conservatism sweeping the country following President Moon Jae-in’s inauguration.

As politicians spin narratives, public outrage and peaceful protests increase

Verdict:

Blue Butterfly Effect is a powerful testament to the spirit of Korean people and the power of protest, as well as an important cultural text in its own right. Director Park Moon-chil again proves his talent as a documentarian to watch, for Blue Butterfly Effect is a film that, for current and future generations, and those interested in the politics of the peninsula, demands to be seen.

★★★★☆

Reviews

February 4, 2015February 24, 2015

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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

The POSCO furnaces are a hellish landscape exemplifying human kind's desire to create their own divinity

May 3, 2014August 30, 2015

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A Dream Of Iron (철의 꿈) – ★★★★☆

A Dream Of Iron (철의 꿈)

When his partner decides to end to their relationship in order to become a Buddhist monk, director Kelvin Kyung Kun Park is devastated. Unable to understand her desire to reject contemporary civilisation in search of spiritual enlightenment, director Park decides to search for something tangible and godly to win her back. Yet in his quest to do so the director begins to explore Korea’s recent history, and becomes aware of human kind’s complex relationship with what is considered holy.

The composition is consistently stunning

A Dream of Iron is a gorgeously shot, beautifully sincere documentary. Director Park fully displays his history as an artist with some truly majestic cinematography that rarely fails to leave mouths agape, and is a stunning testament to human kind’s unbridled ambition and search for the divine. Premiering at the 2014 Berlinale and awarded the NETPAC Prize (alongside fellow Korean documentary, Non-Fiction Diary), A Dream of Iron has been turning heads internationally for it’s sensitivity and depth in attempting to find God in modernity.

Director Park elegantly combines imagery from different periods of Korean history in exploring how spiritualism has evolved. Early Koreans worshipped whales as heralds of the divine, and their grace and mysterious grandeur are artfully captured throughout the film. Such scenes are contrasted with Buddhist ceremonies whose monks attempt to achieve enlightenment through rituals, and with the modern age in a shipbuilding steelworks. In each instance the camerawork, cinematography and use of colour are absolutely sumptuous. The gentle and tranquil blue hues of life under the ocean are juxtaposed with the burning reds and yellows of molten metal at the steelworks, eloquently articulating how humanity has exchanged heavenly creatures for a hellish landscape in the pursuit of conquering, and recreating, godliness.

Notions of divinity throughout the ages are explored leading to the age of iron

In examining the transition, director Park employs historical footage of former dictator Park Chung-hee and his unrestrained fervour for modernity. In telling scenes the director depicts how Park systematically destroyed the old to make way for his new vision, and in one particularly effective moment cuts from a whale to a sign baring ‘HYUNDAI’, acutely conveying the exchange of deities. Rather than examining the chaebols (Korean companies) however, A Dream of Iron is focused on POSCO (Pohang Iron and Steel Company) and the history of the organisation. The old footage of steelworkers and the history of protest within Korea is a consistently fascinating viewing experience, while the religious terminology used by the corporation itself lends itself to director Park’s themes all too easily.

The music throughout A Dream of Iron is incredibly well used, particularly in the jaw-dropping aerial shots of the shipyard and the Park Chung-hee era. The sense of foreboding and darkness that is created through such sequences are powerful and provocative, particularly when contrasted with notions of the divine from prior eras. As the director explores the contrast ever further, both he and the audience gradually being to understand that his ex-partner may well have a strong case to leave after all.

The POSCO furnaces are a hellish landscape exemplifying human kind’s desire to create their own divinity

Verdict:

A Dream of Iron is a gorgeously shot documentary by director Kelvin Kyung Kun Park that explores Korea’s difficult relationship with notions of the divine. By contrasting scenes of majestic whales, Buddhist ceremonies, and hellish scenes from the POSCO steelworks, director Park has crafted an elegant and powerful examination of Korean modernity. The film’s success in achieving the NETPAC award at Berlinale is wholly justified as A Dream of Iron is a stunning testament to human nature’s unbridled ambition.

★★★★☆

Director Hong's father always seemed to be on a journey, even in death

April 11, 2014January 30, 2015

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My Father’s Emails (아버지의 이메일) – ★★★☆☆

My Father’s Emails (아버지의 이메일)

My Father’s Emails (아버지의 이메일) is a lovingly told documentary with an incredible premise. Following her estranged father’s death, director Hong Jae-hee (홍재희) finally decides to read the 43 emails he had sent shortly before he passed away. Initially director Hong had ignored the emails; after years experiencing her father’s alcoholism and domestic abuse, there was little reason to open them. Yet the emails were intriguing, not only as her father was a far cry from being technologically competent but also as she was the only family member to receive them. The contents of the emails were of enormous surprise for the director as her previously reclusive father had written an autobiography of sorts, articulating startling events that forged him into the man she knew.

Fascinated about the father she once despised, director Hong begins exploring his past and his decisions so inherently tied to Korean history. Yet in her quest to understand she is also forced to confront the family trauma that still proves extremely raw for her mother and siblings.

Director Hong’s father often worked abroad in a bid to achieve his dreams

One of the great strengths of My Father’s Emails lies in the way director Hong’s father made his life choices in conjunction with pivotal events in recent Korean history. In portraying his formative years and the national issues that influenced him, the documentary therefore becomes not only a personal and intimate portrait of a man struggling to find his way in the world but also takes on an historical significance. Hong combines her startling realisations from the emails about a man she barely knew with interviews of those close to him, old photographs, and occasional reconstructions, all of which bring her father’s journey vividly to life. His arduous migration from North Korea as a penniless teenager through to the successes and failures of his business ventures both domestic and abroad paint a fascinating portrait of the era, and the soul-destroying difficulties endured by those attempting to create a better life. Indeed, there is such a wealth of intriguing information regarding this period that the incredibly fast pace Hong employs to such scenes is puzzling and a tad frustrating. Events are rapidly introduced before moving on to the next, and a slower pace with greater depth would have made the connection with her father – and Korean history – much stronger.

Director Hong does however slow things down when exploring the family trauma left in her father’s wake. The frank interviews with her long-suffering mother as they discuss his alcoholism and domestic abuse is moving and intimate, while the anger displayed by Hong’s siblings clearly articulate the legacy he constructed due to his addiction. Yet what makes these scenes so interesting is that Hong continues to probe for answers as to the cause of her father’s depression and behaviour, refusing to simply judge and desperate to finally understand the man whom she had previously hated for most of her life. It’s a powerful message, and one that Hong captures with sincerity.

Director Hong’s father always seemed to be on a journey, even in death

My Father’s Emails (아버지의 이메일) is an intimate documentary with a fascinating premise. In exploring the 43 emails sent by her father after his death, director Hong Jae-hee (홍재희) attempts to understand her estranged parental figure. The film is a great examination not only of her father but of recent Korean history, to which his decisions, successes and failures were so inherently tied to, and which in turn formed the basis for tragic family trauma. While it has pacing issues and is somewhat of a documentary of two halves, My Father’s Emails is a moving and sincere account of Hong’s desire to better understand a man she barely knew.

★★★☆☆

Reviews

June 16, 2013August 30, 2015

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My Place (마이 플레이스) – ★★★★☆

My Place (마이 플레이스)

The best kinds of documentary are the ones where the audience and those within the film itself undertake the same journey of discovery, sharing revelations and introspections about a particular topic that ultimately change the perspectives of those both sides of the camera. This is acutely the case with director Park Moon-chil’s My Place, a highly personal account of the director’s own family history and trauma. Director Park explores the inherently Korean cultural clashes of traditional ideology versus the contemporary, Western individualism contrasted with Eastern collectivism, as well as gender and family politics, all through the microcosm of his own family unit. Beginning with very traditional concerns over his unmarried sister’s pregnancy, the documentary charts how every member of the Park family is forced to re-examine themselves, their pasts, and their choices in order to welcome the new member into the fold. From beginning to end My Place is a heartwarming and illuminating film, thanks in no small part to the director’s wonderfully strong and charismatic sister who challenges familial and cultural issues head-on and emerges victorious.

Cross-cultural trauma and single motherhood are problematic topics in Korea

Director Park’s sister Peace is very much the heart and soul of My Place, and the documentary is largely centered around the ramifications of her decision to be a single mother. In Korean culture unwed mothers are heavily stigmatized, and the film begins by attempting to address her perceived irresponsibility and whether abortion is a viable option. Yet as director Park converses about the issue with his parents, he begins to re-evaluate his own understanding of his sisters character through considering their shared history, and by interviewing her about her past and the pregnancy. The technique is superb, as the non-judgmental approach allows for layers of psychology and past traumas to be re-examined, and how they impact the decisions of the present. For instance, the film explores how the siblings were born and raised in Toronto which allowed their individuality and creativity to be nurtured, yet their forced relocation back to Korea at a young age provided an enormous culture shock that was difficult to cope with; the director even noting that school assemblies reminded him of the Nazis. The impact was greatest on Peace however, and the home videos and photographs of her childhood authentically capture her fraught and difficult childhood.

Old home videos add authenticity to the journey the family undertake

Director Park also applies such frameworks to his mother and father, and in doing so discovers more about what drove them in their youth and what shaped their decision-making processes so long ago. With the revelations of Peace’s unhappy childhood it would be all too easy to blame his parents, and while they indeed acknowledge responsibility for their choices, delving into their history stops the issue from being simple. Such scenes are brilliantly edited within the documentary not only for their seamlessness, but the constantly compelling revelations regarding his parents inspires audience introspection. Each member of the Park household is a fascinating person forged by history, and the loving care that director Park exhibits when filming them is palpable. This particularly applies in regard to Peace, as the directors respect and admiration for his sister clearly grows and develops during the course of the film.

Ironically what forces the family to re-evaluate themselves is the very thing that causes them worry – Peace’s pregnancy. And when her son Soul is born, witnessing the family gathering together and become stronger than ever is extremely poignant. Director Park charts the very early years of Soul’s life in similarly effective style, exploring how each member attempts to find a role in which to provide help and support, and the results are consistently moving, humourous and entertaining. Watching Peace working hard as a single mother, and Soul as he develops a personality of his own, is powerfully absorbing and captured with tenderness and sensitivity. One such scene involves Soul and his grandfather reading a storybook together, and the attempt to bestow morality lessons on the youngster is a beautifully funny moment. Director Park – and the audience – come to realise that the initial concerns over Peace’s pregnancy were unfounded, and that the strength and resilience she exhibits as a single mother are incredibly admirable. As such, My Place is emblematic of changing cultural attitudes, and is a wonderful testament to the love and bonds shared within the family.

Family trauma is revisited and healed through the birth of Peace

Verdict:

My Place is a funny, enlightening, and wonderful documentary about the importance of family. By using his unwed sisters pregnancy as a catalyst, director Park Moon-chil uses his concerns as a springboard in which to explore the history and psychology of his mother, father, and most predominantly his sister Peace. In doing so director Park shares his revelations and changing attitudes with the audience, with each step constantly compelling as the family attempt to heal past traumas in order to welcome the new baby. A superb and lovely documentary.

★★★★☆

International Women's Film Festival in Seoul (서울국제여성영화제) Jeonju International Film Festival (제14회 전주국제영화제) Reviews

May 22, 2013January 31, 2015

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Interview With Documentary Producer Kim Min-chul (김민철) – Part 2

Producer Kim Min-chul

For Part 1 of the interview with documentary producer Kim Min-chul (김민철), please click on the link. In this second part, producer Kim discusses his company Minch & Films, the current environment for Korean documentaries, and his acclaimed and powerfully moving filmography.

Q) Throughout your filmography you seem to be attracted to stories about vulnerable people who find strength despite adversity. Iron Crows (아이언 크로우즈), My Barefoot Friend (오래된 인력거), Planet of Snail and Captain Kang all display this. What is it about these kinds of stories that attracts your interest? Why do you want to make documentaries about these subjects?

A) To be cynically honest with you, I don’t believe that documentaries can change the world. I am also not interested in a “Let’s change the world” type of documentary let alone making documentaries about vulnerable people in unfair world. I also try to avoid the word ‘despite’ in any synopsis or treatment I write. As a producer, what counts for me the most in selecting a project is the ‘chemistry’ I have with the director. The same rule is applied for scouting production crews. I trust my gut feeling or intuition over a profile or CV. As every other producer does, I also make mistakes in selecting projects or scouting crews and it’s usually because I ignored my gut feeling and made decisions based on conditions and situations.

Having recalled how I got involved in those films, I can only say that it’s really a series of coincidences that my filmography looks like this. I want to work with only good people because I don’t separate my professional life from private life. I am not selective about a subject but about filmmakers. I don’t care much about the subject but how a director deals with the subject. To my understanding, documentary is a form of cinema after all so it must be cinematically entertaining.

My Barefoot Friend depicts the life of rickshaw workers in Calcutta

Maybe I can put it this way; it’s not me who found the subjects but the directors who share certain values in life, and their tendency of filmmaking, and found me.

When Seung-Jun first pitched Planet of Snail – originally it was titled Hazy Journey of the Illuminating Tree – in April 2009, I showed my clear disinterest by saying, “Good luck,” because I was already depressed to hear how miserable life is for the deaf blind man and his crippled wife. I am not interested in making films I don’t want to watch. I didn’t see any charm in the character description or the subject of disability in the two-page proposal written by Seung-Jun in the very beginning of the project. What convinced me to board the project was the director’s vision I saw in the 10 minutes short film he made of the same protagonists he presented a couple of months after his first pitch. Seung-Jun somehow managed to depict the world of a deaf and blind poet without showing any pitifulness towards the characters. I watched his first feature The Children of God in the very evening of the same day at a film festival and I could almost visualize the film Seung-Jun was going to make.

As for Iron Crows, I was fascinated by the dignity of the characters deliberately depicted as heroes, then I realized that the director Bong-Nam Park’s own experience of living as a gas cutter for 3 years really made him see them as colleagues and working class heroes more than pitiful documentary subjects.

Iron Crows captures the hardships of shipbreakers in Bangladesh

Captain Kang is a film that I put most efforts and am most proud of even though it’s probably not the most successful film. What impressed me the most besides his distinctive cinematography when the director Ho-Yeon pitched his story was his attitude toward the subject. I admire his dignity and humbleness as a filmmaker very much. When I decided to produce it, I was joking to the director that soon the industry would brand me as a disability specialized producer.

Q) There are an incredible amount of Korean documentaries being produced in the industry today, mostly by independent companies. These documentaries are often successful at film festivals, yet fail to reach mainstream audiences. What do you think about the role of Korean documentaries in contemporary cinema? Why do they struggle to become ‘mainstream’?

A) I am not sure what you mean by an incredible amount of Korean documentaries. In my opinion, there are far too little documentaries produced in Korea for the size of the population or the industry and compared to the number of fiction films. I am also not sure if you can say that these documentaries are “successful” in film festival circuit. Can you name 10 successful Korean documentaries in the entire history of Korean cinema without looking up your database? Despite the significant rise of current documentaries, I don’t think there are enough documentaries produced to make any meaningful market analysis in my opinion. And the documentaries are not diverse enough compared to the documentaries that are introduced at international documentary markets and festivals. It seems that most Korean documentaries come from either activism-oriented filmmaker groups or human-interest documentary groups who are often associated with TV documentary production.

Jeju Prayer (비념) mixes activism and human interest documentary conventions in exploring the 1948 Jeju Island massacre

Jeju Prayer (비념), by Indiestory, mixes activism and human interest documentary conventions in exploring the 1948 Jeju Island massacre

Activism-oriented documentaries often try to convey political agendas directly whereas most human-interest documentaries search for touching, often tear-jerking, human stories of vulnerable, and often pitiful, characters. Knowing how documentary has developed in Korea it’s more than understandable. Knowing how badly freedom of speech is practiced in Korea, I very much appreciate the role of activism-oriented documentaries that fill a niche in the mainstream media. However, I am missing ‘diversity’ here. Why are all the documentaries dealing with serious subjects almost always in a monotonously serious and direct fashion? Why is it hard to see cinematic documentaries? At film festivals and cinemas in Europe and North America I am seeing many diverse styles of documentaries screened and they are often successful these days. Many of them are highly entertaining yet still dealing with serious subjects such as social justice, war or human rights. Personally I would love to see comedy, musical, action noir genre of documentaries made in Korea by Korean filmmakers.

Poor production quality is another thing that makes Korean documentaries invisible in mainstream cinema. Audiences don’t seem to care much whether it’s documentary or fiction when making decisions to watch films in cinema. You can’t force or beg audiences to watch a documentary despite poor production quality while the ticket prices are more or less the same, and it’s their decision which film they choose to spend their leisure time on. We filmmakers need to work on diversity and production quality of the film we make but I also think there is a serious need for more subsidies from the public sector, not only because of its value for the public good but also because documentary is too weak to freely compete in the market. The government needs to have a long-term investment plan on documentaries in order to make it sustainable. Korean cinema is one of the strongest in the international film market and Korean filmmakers really make good films, but they take time and effort. I don’t believe documentary should be an exception.

Q) You have stated in prior interviews that you have co-producers in Europe, America, and Asia. What are the benefits of having international co-productions? Why are they important/significant?

International co-productions are a great source of funding, but aren’t always easy

A) I like to work with international crews with diverse backgrounds. This is one my strengths as a producer and I very much enjoy seeing how the collaboration between filmmakers with different cultural backgrounds creates chemistry and influences the end result of the film. Providing that filmmaking is teamwork, I feel like a great alchemist when intended collaborations work out. I finance part of my films by international co-production in return for working with production crews from the country of co-production. Planet of Snail is one of the successful cases of international co-production as the collaboration with Finnish sound team definitely added a lot to the production quality of the film, and my Finnish co-producer raised the whole expenses spent in Finland. However international co-production is a double-edged sword when it comes to the conditions for spending. The budget raised by international co-production needs to be spent according to the regulations set by each funder. Usually the money needs to be spent in the country of co-production and often they ask to hire local creative talent. It can be very good if there is room for the talent and your co-producer has the right creative talent for your film to work with. What if there is no more room for creative talents? What if you don’t know how to communicate or work with international film crews? Nowadays I see many producers and film professionals who tend to believe that international co-production is a cure for all and blindly jump into the trap of bad co-production. What’s the use of raising international funds if there is no creative talent who can contribute to the film, or you don’t know how to work together?

Q) You have created your own company Minch & Films. What do you hope to achieve through the company? Does having offices in Seoul and Holland benefit Minch & Films in any way?

Minch & Film was established in 2011

A) Since 2011, I founded and own my own company Minch & Films currently based in Seoul.

I established Minch & Films to be a true story based production. Currently Minch & Films is based only in Seoul while collaborating with post-production talents in Belgrade (Serbia) and multiple co-production partners in Europe and North America.

Currently Minch & Films (or better as producer Min-Chul Kim) is more known internationally than domestically but we are not only making documentaries for international audiences but also for Korean audiences. We are not sticking to the documentary genre or film as platform but cross over genres and media such as game and comics.

(Please follow this link for Minch & Films facebook page)

Q) Can you give any details about any future documentaries and collaborations you are involved in? Will you use Minch & Films to help promote them?

A) State of Play is a feature documentary about what it takes to be a pro-gamer featuring the e-sports champion Lee Jae-Dong. This is a minor co-production with Visualantics, a emerging documentary production in Belgium. I brought Korean Communication Committee and Seoul Film Commission on board and it’s currently in the final post- production to be released in the summer. (See below for the trailer).

MotoSeoul is a feature documentary about young people living on the edge of Seoul dependent on the speed of motorcycle such as quick service rider, Chinese deliveryman and high school bikey gang in the style of Hong Kong noir movie. It has been developed with Seoul Film Commission’s international co-production development support in 2011 although I have been developing this project since 2006. I am expecting to start production in the summer with Ho-Yeon Won as director (Captain Kang’s director).

Scream For Me Sarajevo is a music documentary about heavy metal legend Bruce Dickinson (Iron Maiden’s frontman) and his band’s journey to war torn Sarajevo during the siege in 1994, and what a music concert meant to the people in the least humane living condition. It’s a music film, a road movie and a documentary about war, bravery and human dignity. I am currently visiting London for the pre-production meeting with Bruce and forming the production team. It’s in the early stage of pre-production.

Q) Finally, what do you think about the current environment of Korean documentaries on the global stage? Are they well received, or are there limitations? For example, how do you promote your films internationally to achieve a high profile?

Producer Kim discusses his projects

A) Relatively more Korean documentaries are introduced to the international market since some of the documentaries achieved some level of international success. However global documentary markets are heavily dominated by European and North American productions while documentaries not only about China as subject but also directed and produced by Chinese are growing significantly in numbers as well as in quality. To promote my films internationally, I participate in pitch forums, film markets and festivals and work with international partners such as sales agent, co-producers, and publicists. I also experiment with multimedia platform. For example, I produced an educational app for learning finger braille language to promote social engagement of Planet of Snail. You can download the app simply by opening the site www.planetofsnail.com on any tablet device such as iPad.

In order for Korean documentaries to be better received, we need more supports from Kofic and other public sector. There are always supporters behind successful documentaries.

Hanguk Yeonghwa is incredibly grateful for Producer Kim for taking the time for this interview, and be sure to look out for his future documentaries on the film festival circuit.

Interviews/Q&As Producers

May 21, 2013January 31, 2015

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Interview With Documentary Producer Kim Min-chul (김민철) – Part 1

Producer Kim Min-chul

Producer Kim Min-chul (김민철) has been quite a prolific figure on the film festival circuit over the past few years. Working hard to foster Korean filmmaking talent in conjunction with international co-productions, the documentary producer has been responsible for a string of acclaimed films that capture human endeavours in fascinating and thought-provoking ways.

His most successful film is the powerfully moving Planet of Snail (달팽이의 별) directed by Yi Seung-Jun (이승준), which featured in festivals worldwide as well as winning several notable accolades.

Producer Kim very kindly agreed to be interviewed about his history as a filmmaker, his perspective on international co-productions, and his thoughts on the future of Korean documentaries.

Q) Planet of Snail has been one of the most successful Korean documentaries in recent memory, achieving international acclaim in several continents. Can you describe how you achieved such success?

A) Planet of Snail has been screened at over 80 festivals so far since its national premiere at EIDF in 2010 winning a dozen of prizes including Joris Ivens award at IDFA and Best documentary feature at Silverdocs. It was theatrically released in Korea, Japan, USA, UK, Netherlands and Belgium and broadcasted over 20 countries. It certainly has become one of the most internationally acclaimed Korean documentaries and the film is still traveling around festivals even at this moment.

Critically acclaimed Planet of Snail has been incredibly successful

However, Planet of Snail began as a small project with a small local crew and minor indie subject of a disabled protagonist. As far as the subject or the production scale are concerned it was not meant to be this successful or popular. It was not easy at all to convince the people we need to have on board both locally and internationally. At local pitch forums, professionals didn’t understand why we need 2 years to finish a “human interest documentary” and advised us to lower down the budget that was already cut half to please the local standard. At international markets, no one questioned about the budget (the realistic one) or the production timeline but it was still not considered as a project to be this successful in the following year. A well-acclaimed professional even told us that this film is not sellable which was a real heartbreak for emerging filmmakers like us without much international experience. In the end we managed to get multiple national and international funds and broadcasters on board after all including EIDF (EBS Int’l Documentary Festival), BCPF (Broadcast Content Promotion Foundation), Sundance Documentary Fund, Cinereach Grant, Finnish Film Foundation, YLE and NHK.

Perhaps one of the keys to the success of this film is the development we’ve been through in an international documentary environment. I brought this project to Eurodoc, which is one of the European initiatives for educating international documentary professionals. I was lucky enough to be the first Asian producer among over a couple of dozen producers from all over Europe. The courses were divided into 3 sessions a week for each session over the period of a year. In different stages of production I was able to get feedback from various professionals including fellow producers, sales agents and commissioning editors and we also realized the potential of the film as a love story. While we pitched the project at several national and international pitch forums, we got to know the strengths and weaknesses of the project and evaluate the market potential of it. We also learned that a lot of people see the story as a love story which had never been our focus of the original dramaturgy. I must not forget to mention the benefit of having a colorful team of international crew. There were over a dozen members in the international crew involved in and out of the production with more than 10 different nationalities including a Lebanese editor, a Finnish sound designer, a Japanese commissioning editor, a Dutch poster designer, a US funder and a French sales agent etc. I am also almost proud to say that we formed the team not for the sake of international co-production budget spending regulations, but based on true artistic connections and the positive chemistry we had with each other.

Q) Why do you think this film resonates deeply with audiences?

A) What makes the film outstanding is not the subject itself but the film(maker)’s attitude toward the subject. There is almost no distance between the people in front of camera and those behind it in the film. The protagonists are vulnerable minorities who are usually protective against media but they act natural as if no one is seeing them. One could imagine that it’s impossible for a filmmaker to make such scenes without earning their trust with their whole heart. I have a huge respect for Seung-Jun for his sincerity and I believe that audiences felt it on the screen.

The unique world of Soon-ho and Yeong-chan is wonderfully conveyed

Director’s vision is another thing. The world’s most talented film crews would be useless without a visionary director. Filmmaking is teamwork and even the smallest documentary production involves a team. It wouldn’t have been possible to make such a unique film without a director like Seung-Jun who had been there almost invisibly for such a long time and captured the precious moments of everyday life and the special world of the deaf and blind and put them into screen as he saw and understood it.

We put a lot of effort in post-production in order to depict the sensitive, fragile and beautifully innocent world of the deaf and blind. Did I mention that Planet of Snail is edited by Lebanese filmmaker Simon El Habre who made One Man Village, the 2009 Hotdocs winner? Tom Fleischman, a five times Oscar nominated sound designer whose filmography includes The Silence of the Lambs supervised our sound post team in Finland.

Planet of Snail is one of the examples that show how a filmmaker’s vision is reflected in a documentary film. Among hundreds of different definitions of documentary, my favorite one is “creative interpretation of reality with personal view”.

Q) You have re-teamed with Planet of Snail director Yi Seung-jun for your latest documentary production. Can you tell us about the film?

A) Wind on the Moon is the story about a born deaf blind girl who can only express herself by crying, screaming, laughing and smiling and her devoted mother who struggles to understand her language like a secret code inscribed on the moon. We again took a poetic approach with the title. The moon is a lonely place where deaf blind girl Yeji may feel she lives in. There is no wind on the moon and no one else but the mother can feel the wind. Yeji in real life also loves to feel wind.

Director Yi Seung-jun’s unintrusive, compassionate style has garnered international interest

So we have another deaf blind protagonist but the subject is not the same nor is it Planet of Snail II. As far as the level of disability is concerned, Young-Chan (Planet of Snail) has at least a language but Yeji (Wind on the Moon) doesn’t and this could bring us to a different level of philosophical question; what makes a human a human? Young-Chan was able to learn braille language because he gradually lost his vision and hearing in his teenage whereas Yeji was born deaf and blind.

However, the biggest difference is the perspective of the narrative. Whereas in Planet of Snail the deaf blind protagonist leads the narrative (or tells the story) from his own perspective, in Wind on the Moon not the deaf blind girl but her mother’s perspective leads the narrative. Whereas Planet of Snail focuses on the inner world of deaf blind poet and his love story with his wife, Wind on the Moon focuses on the mother’s devotion and her struggle to communicate with her daughter. The story is told from the perspective of a mother of a disabled child and I believe there will be more audiences who could sympathize with characters this way compared to that of Planet of Snail.

In Wind on the Moon, the camera is almost invisible but still very intimate and close (I call it ‘A fly on the shoulder’ approach compared to ‘A fly on the wall’ approach). Last week, Seung-Jun showed me some scenes selected from the footage he shot over the last couple of months and I said anyone could tell it’s his film. It’s so intimate and lovely yet deliberately captures precious moments of the everyday life of the mother and the daughter. I look very much forward to see the movie as an audience myself.

Q) Why did you decide to work with director Lee again?

Captain Kang follows a disabled ship’s captain

A) Since the triumph of Planet of Snail at IDFA 2011, both Seung-Jun and I became busier than ever. While I was busy traveling and sharing my experiences of producing Planet of Snail at master classes here and there, I was force to finish up my next feature Captain Kang (강선장) with post-production crews in Belgrade. Seung-Jun has been traveling festivals and representing the film almost constantly for over a half of a year so we didn’t really have a chance to digest all the impressions and talk about what’s next until we met in Sheffield (How global we are!). When Seung-Jun pitched Wind on the Moon to me, I said, “You seem to have found the right project.” Seung-Jun seemed very happy to hear that because most feedback he had so far have been rather negative as they were not interested in another story with the same subject. I knew he saw something very special and worthy to make a film of in the protagonists. He is a man who doesn’t say anything before he is sure of. I trust Seung-Jun’s deliberate personality. Seung-Jun wanted to be safe with the production side of it especially because now the world documentary community is watching him for his next film.

Please see below for the trailer for Captain Kang: