Dueling Masculinities in Running Turtle (Geobugi dallinda, 2009)

Just a look at the synopsis for Running Turtle will invite a lot of comparisons to Na Hong-jin’s seminal 2008 work The Chaser. It is a thriller about a middle-aged detective who gets booted out of the force and goes after a young wanted fugitive. The detective is played by none other than Kim Yun-seok, also the lead in Na’s thriller. This is a different beast though, but no less compelling and effective in its depiction of a middle-aged tough guy forced to the end of his wits and the edge of his already shady moral compass.

Domestic scene

Kim, who has truly become a force to be reckoned with of late, is magnificent as Pil-seong, the rough-around-the-edges anti-hero. He is a lone wolf, experienced enough to understand how things work, and not above abusing the system to his own ends. Despite his malefactions, his family is nearly penniless and he gambles most of his earnings away to escape the endless tirade of abuse he receives from his ever-suffering wife. The domestic scenes in the first part of the film are a marvel, which may seem like a strange word to use because they are brutal and unpleasant. However, they are so well staged, passionately acted, and efficiently paced that they become energetic, as well as vituperative, and strangely endearing. We feel for Pil-seong when contrasted with his wailing banshee of a wife but no sooner does he leave the confines of his home when he’s up to his old tricks which likely are the cause of his life partner’s bitterness.

The film also follows another character, Gi-tae, who is a famed martial artist on the run after having escaped from jail. Pil-seong, after having been suspended from the force for brutality and subsequently reached rock bottom, gets lucky when he gambles his wife’s savings on a long shot and wins. He is not so lucky when Gi-tae attacks his bookies for being offensive to his girl and takes his winnings. From this point on he tries to apprehend Gi-tae, even though each time he corners him he gets beaten to within an inch of his life. For some it may be frustrating to watch Pil-seong go after Gi-tae when it is so clear that he will be overwhelmed, but it is a demonstration of remarkable tenacity and stubbornness on the former’s part. The reason for this is that Gi-tae has become embroiled with Pil-seong at a very fragile time. Being booted off the force, unable to provide for his family, facing the ire of his wife, and losing the respect of all his former colleagues, he his emasculated to a degree where he will do anything to prove his masculinity. Running straight into Gi-tae’s fists, knowing full-well that he will be overcome, is the little he can do to stake his claim at being a man. The more he loses, the more frustrated and careless he becomes. As such he joins the ranks of the many post-traumatic males of Korean cinema that have appeared in the last 25 years.

Pil-seong (Kim Yun-seok) after winning his bet

The film is ostensibly about a man chasing down a criminal but really the narrative pits Pil-seong in a scrappy fight and breathless search for his elusive masculinity. After being pummeled again and again, he must pullback and make use of his mental faculty. It is thought and intellect that will allow him to reclaim his desired position in society, as in this instance physicality has clearly failed. The climax and the audience’s interpretation will decide whether he succeeds in reclaiming his identity. In the meantime the other male in the narrative serves as an obstacle.

Gi-tae seems like a one-note character that we learn little about, he is just young, boyishly handsome, and endowed with nearly superhuman fighting skills. Korean cinema seems to be rife with characters who seem positively unbeatable, although they always fall in the end, recent examples include Haunters (2010) and The Yellow Sea (2010). The latter in particular featured Kim Yun-seok yet again in another role in which he displays a gritty bravado and masculinity. Unlike The Chaser and Running Turtle however, his character in The Yellow Sea is in complete control of his persona and with ruthless brutality and unnerving calmness, easily cuts down his adversaries dozens at a time. Haunters features Choi Deok-moon as a nearly emotionless psychic with the ability to control everyone that comes near him like a puppet, save for the hero. Much like Pil-seong, the hero in Haunters puts himself continually in the psychic’s path with no tangible plan of action, although he does not suffer from the same kind of masculine lack.

Pil-seong cannot overcome Gi-tae physically

These all-powerful antagonists typically show very little emotion and even less regard for human life. They have spades of masculinity but are disconnected from normal society and healthy human interactions. As far as the recuperation of the male id in Korean cinema, which generally takes the form of men who blunder through narratives in search of their lost masculinity, these characters seem to emanate from the darker side of this act of reconstitution. They have their masculinities but at the expense of all else: history has been erased or deliberately forgotten.

Gi-tae is on some kind of a journey too but his destination or goal isn’t clear. He fights, or rather defends himself, during the film but still hangs around. Perhaps he has nowhere to go, certainly he has no need to reconstitute his masculinity as he is not emasculated like Pil-seong. Yet his identity is lost and perhaps he knows that he cannot recuperate it, any journey he goes on must therefore be doomed.

For these reasons Running Turtle acts as a very effective thriller and fascinating, if somewhat simplistic, character study. It helps that it builds momentum on the way towards its climax. The more I think about it, this film is actually very similar to The Chaser, thematically as well as aesthetically. Strongly recommended for fans of thoughtful, well-made Korean thrillers.

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Memories of Murder: Part V - Female Representations

"Yet this absence of the mother had hardly nullified her fascinating and spectral presence, which is structured around the male subject’s unconscious desire to return safely to his place of origin. Even though the mothers are not ubiquitously present they are central to the narratives”

Park's Lover...

The position of female characters within these narratives that centralize around the recuperation of male subjectivity is problematic at best. Volume wise, as characters they are few and far between but what they represent is what is more complicated to ascertain. Some essays attack the fact that all the females in these narratives are seemingly just mothers and whores, sometimes both rolled into the same character. Since these films are dealing predominantly with masculine trauma it is not surprising that women in them are depicted as one or the other of these central male-female relationships. In Memories there are extremely few female characters and they add very little to the plot, which is not to say they are not "ubiquitously present". We learn about Det. Park’s family and up until the very end, where he has built his own family away from his past, the only woman we see that he has something beyond a work-based relationship with is the women he is sleeping with. She embodies both "the mother and the whore", a condensed narrative of sorts. We first see her naked having sexual intercourse with Park and immediately following this they engage in a casual post-coital conversation while she administers him with a vaccine. She sates his sexual appetites as well as giving him medical care and thus embodies characteristics of both a mother and a lover. It is true that the women are present throughout in so much that they effect the psyches of the males and are important to their historical, social, and personal developments, but they hardly appear in physical form and are never fully distinguishable characters as they only serves as emblems of their relationships to the male protagonists "the images of women remain prefixed on the rigid bifurcated conventions of whores and mothers". Since the film is all about character types which symbolize a generation and its subjugation, and problematic relationships with itself it is not altogether surprising that this approach is used. However, it is true that women could play a greater role in a number of these narratives. lt could be that the filmmakers in questions are too concerned with there own personal relationships with the characters they depict on screen to be altogether fully aware of the feminine aspect of the societies they embody. Therefore there is "a misogynistic tendency against women“ that “constitutes perhaps the most visible and disturbing symptom of a cinema that has earned its reputation abroad as consisting primarily of "violent introspective melodramas".

...becomes his mother

The other women in the film have similar traits. Gui-ok, the woman at the station only serves to add a feminine touch to the investigation, she listens to a sappy radio show and notices a song that comes up (however this scene does serve to emasculate the stumped male detectives and superintendent) and also interviews the rape victim who isn’t comfortable around men. This rape victim is an interesting characterization as she has suffered from a very real form of trauma and is so scarred that she can no longer live in society or relate to it in any way. As she explains her experience to Gui-ok, the scene is intercut with flashbacks of her experience, which are terrifying and humiliating. Therefore she cannot be said to be a fleshed-out character in her own right, as she is merely a device from which to extract evidence. It seems that all the females in Bong’s narrative are little more than symbols but a look at his next two films (The Host and Mother) makes it clear that he has the ability to do justice to female representations.

Previous: Part IV - Subversion of Genre

Next:  Part VI - Psychoanalysis and Scarred National Identity