News: Song Kang-ho Drives into 10 Million Viewer Club for 3rd Time with A TAXI DRIVER

By Pierce Conran

Jang Hoon's Gwangju drama A Taxi Driver drove past the 10 million viewer mark ($69 million) this morning (August 20), on its 19th day of release. It's the 15th Korean film to do so (19th overall) and the only one this year.

Click to read more»

Review: Im Sang-soo's THE OLD GARDEN, A Heady Cocktail of Art, Ambition and History

By Pierce Conran

Ambition, artistry and Korea’s painful recent past combine to fascinating results in The Old Garden (2006), an impressive yet flawed work from director Im Sang-soo which frames the trauma of a nation through a brief, yet passionate romance.

Click to read more»

Revenge Week: 26 Years - The Ultimate Revenge Narrative

Part of MKC's Revenge Week (July 8-14, 2013). This is not a new piece but it just seemed too a propos not to include.

Just like anyone else, I come from a country (Ireland) with historical scars that refuse to completely fade away. The sad fact is that these days my connection with my home is tenuous at best. Nevertheless, as we approach the centenary following the Easter Rising of 1916, this terrible event that saw a group a passionate Irishman stand up to their English oppressors, only to be brutally suppressed, is still an indelible part of who I am.

Click to read more»

The Ultimate Revenge Narrative: 26 Years (26년, 26-nyeon) 2012

Just like anyone else, I come from a country (Ireland) with historical scars that refuse to completely fade away. The sad fact is that these days my connection with my home is tenuous at best. Nevertheless, as we approach the centenary following the Easter Rising of 1916, this terrible event that saw a group a passionate Irishman stand up to their English oppressors, only to be brutally suppressed, is still an indelible part of who I am.

My grandmother (who recently died aged 100) was only four when it happened. It should be ancient history for me: a bygone event that took place in a country I didn't spend much of my youth in and that I don’t easily identify with. Yet somehow, I feel a sense of solidarity with those young men (and a few women) who stood up to an unvanquishable foe in the name of what they felt was right.

Click to read more»

KOFFIA 2012: Disney, Nostalgia, and Politics in Sunny (써니, Sseo-ni) 2011

Part of MKC's coverage of the 3rd Korean Film Festival in Australia (previously published).

Delve into any well-balanced childhood and you’re sure to find a candy store: our ephemeral youth’s source of confectionary delights and perpetual euphoria. During my childhood I had a particularly aggressive sweet tooth and the easiest way to motivate my obedience or to inspire my eternal adoration was to drag me into a store full of sweets. I grew older and these gave way to popcorn as I found myself gazing up at the silver screen, the candy store of my adulthood. Between these two worlds lies a transition and at the forefront of it, an enduring symbol that came both before and will likely remain long after. I speak of Disney, the dream factory that is also the world’s most powerful media conglomerate. It is a kaleidoscopic candy store that titillates our senses beyond our sweet-craving taste buds. It is also calculating, cloying and devious but I seek not to denigrate its brilliant success, merely to point out what makes it so infectious: formula.

Just like the chemicals that bind together to delight our youthful, undeveloped palates in the candy store, the Walt Disney Company applies a rigid, time-tested formula to all of its products. The formula has many permutations and its application is effectuated, for film and animation, through themes, morals and standards, but also by way of a carefully constructed mise-en-scene. When done right, as it often is by Disney and even more frequently by its subsidiary Pixar, the result is clear: a good film that is guaranteed a solid ROI.

Click to read more»

Disney, Nostalgia, and Politics in Sunny (써니, Sseo-ni) 2011

First day at school – a Disney moment

Delve into any well-balanced childhood and you’re sure to find a candy store: our ephemeral youth’s source of confectionary delights and perpetual euphoria.  During my childhood I had a particularly aggressive sweet tooth and the easiest way to motivate my obedience or to inspire my eternal adoration was to drag me into a store full of sweets. I grew older and these gave way to popcorn as I found myself gazing up at the silver screen, the candy store of my adulthood.  Between these two worlds lies a transition and at the forefront of it, an enduring symbol that came both before and will likely remain long after.  I speak of Disney, the dream factory that is also the world’s most powerful media conglomerate.  It is a kaleidoscopic candy store that titillates our senses beyond our sweet-craving taste buds.  It is also calculating, cloying, and devious but I seek not to denigrate its brilliant success, merely to point out what makes it so infectious: formula.

Just like the chemicals that bind together to delight our youthful, undeveloped palates in the candy store, the Walt Disney Company applies a rigid, time-tested formula to all of its products.  The formula has many permutations and its application is effectuated, for film and animation, through themes, morals, and standards, but also by way of a carefully constructed mise-en-scene.  When done right, as it often is by Disney and even more frequently by its subsidiary Pixar, the result is clear: a good film that is guaranteed a solid ROI.

'Sunny' reconnects in the present

Recently, Koreans were bowled over by the extraordinary success of Sunny, a seemingly small production, as it laid local blockbusters to waste throughout the long summer doldrums, at least until War of the Arrows came along to save some face for the industry.  First off I would like to contest the fact that Sunny was an unexpected sleeper hit.  The media certainly portrayed it as such, and the people behind the film were happy to go along with that story, as an underdog’s success is always more palatable to the viewer.  I believe that Sunny, in the revered tradition of the great Mouse house, relied on an intricate formula designed to hit all the right buttons.  I’m certain that the filmmakers knew that they had a hit on their hands, if not quite aware of the heights that it would soar to.

When handled poorly, formula can sound the death bells for a film but when done right, both the filmmakers and the spectators reap the rewards.  A recent New Yorker profile of Andrew Stanton, the director of Finding Nemo (2003), Wall-E (2008), and the upcoming John Carter (2012), revealed the inner workings of the world’s most successful and consistent animation production house.  Pixar films, as it turns out, are always a work in progress, early drafts and cuts are put forward to the Braintrust, an in-house think tank that collaboratively repairs any perceived problems.  As Stanton said, “We're in this weird, hermetically sealed freakazoid place where everyone's tying their best to do their best – and the films still suck for three of the four years it takes to make them.”

Unsuspecting

Sunny begins in the present and focusses on the comfortable life of mother and wife Na-mi.  She visits her mother in hospital and recognizes a cancer-stricken occupant of an adjacent private room, an old high school friend whom she hasn’t seen in 25 years.  They were close and part of a band of seven friends called ‘Sunny’.  Saddened by her friend’s illness but reinvigorated with nostalgia she goes home and listens to one of her favorite songs from the 1980s.  Soon after, she drives by her old school and witnesses a hoard of uniformed children making their way up the cobbled path leading towards the gate.  She injects herself into the crowd and with the help of some dizzying camerawork, clever editing, a Disney-esque theme song, and an across the board costume change, she is transported back to the 1980s, the scene of her youth.  Today is the young Na-mi’s first day in a new school.

I don’t know what the developmental process was for Sunny but it is something I would be very keen to find out a little more about.  The exquisite craft in its making seems effortless, which almost always means that a huge amount of effort was expended to get it to that point.  During the first transition to the past, on the path to the school, I was immediately reminded of Disney, and that impression sunk as I delved deeper into the narrative.  Sunny was awarded, among other notable prizes, Best Editing at last month’s 31^st Daejong Film Awards (the Korean equivalent to the Oscars).  Now that I have seen it, I can see that there was really no competition in that category.  Rarely is any film, let alone a Korean one, so well edited.  The look, feel, and especially the nostalgia of the film reminds me of one of my personal favorites, the criminally overlooked French Canadian coming of age film C.R.A.Z.Y. (2003).  Particularly the magnificent moment in the scene where the young Na-mi follows the boy she likes to a café bar, when he comes up from behind and puts his headphones on her, instantly flooding the soundtrack with an engrossing song.  The nostalgia effect is crucial to Sunny’s success, but far-be-it from only appealing to adults who came of age in the 1980s, the radiating, bombastic, and positively addictive soundtrack is, just like C.R.A.Z.Y., one of the chief elements which makes it nigh on impossible to resist.

Surprised/engrossed

The flashback sequences, which take up a little more than half of the film’s running time, are, like our merry band of youthful protagonists, sunny.  In fact, they are positively sundrenched.  Considering how much it rains Korea, this seems like an element that has been exaggerated to more effectively transport the audience, collectively, back to their youth, or at least the parts we like to remember.  Of course memory is very deceptive and we do frequently remember things differently from the way they actually happened.  Colours are also exaggerated in the film, for instance the predominant ones in the present are monochromatic: from the black and white of the school uniforms; the clean sunlit living room of Na-mi’s home; the caustic white of the hospital’s rooms and corridors; and the general lack of colour in the wintry surroundings.  In the past, the colour palate is explosive: the bold primaries of the un-uniformed children; the many different Nike bags; the make-up; the accessories; and the verdant colours of spring.

The 1980s, just like much of the 20^th century, were a difficult time for Korea.  A few years earlier, one autocratic president (Park Chung-hee) was assassinated and replaced with another (Chun Doo-hwan) and then the decade got off to an awful start with the infamous Gwangju massacre.  It was only near the end of the decade that signs of a more liberated Korea began to emerge.  Sunny’s protagonists seem to live in a bubble: they are more concerned with their Nike handbags than with the political turmoil of the period.  They are young and perhaps they do not understand what is going on but the film prominently features indications of troubled times: Na-mi’s brother is a political activist and is at odds with his parents; platoons of soldiers entertain themselves in alleys as others go about their business.  In one of the film’s most memorable scenes, ‘Sunny’ goes head to head with a rival gang alongside student activists battling it out with riot police.  Their behavior references the jop’ok (gang) culture which pervades the flashbacks of the film.  Their leader Choon-hwa (Kang So-ra) is reminiscent of both Jang Dong-gun in Friend (2001) and Kwon Sang-woo in Once Upon a Time in High School (2004).  While the popularity of gang culture in the 1980s may well have had something to do with the social ills of the time, I wondered how 'Sunny' could be so disconnected with what was happening around them.  Is it apathy, ignorance, or escapism?  In any case, for some of the characters, things don’t end up so sunny, so perhaps this signifies that, ultimately, no one in Korea was immune to the troubles of the time.

Rival girl gangs against the backdrop
of political turmoil

The film features a lot of protagonists and twice as many actors to portray them in both the past and the present, naturally a lot of the success of the film relies on how well they inhabit their roles and how they interact with one another.  Thankfully, the cast is fit for the task and uniformly wonderful, they make Sunny a joy to watch.  Particularly impressive is Shim Eun-kyeong as the young Na-mi, while very eccentric, her performance shows off her great comic timing and her endearing naivety.  While only 16, she has already built up an impressive resume, including: Possessed (2009), The Quiz Show Scandal (2010), and Romantic Heaven (2011).

As previously mentioned, the editing in Sunny is masterful.  It is also well complemented by spirited cinematography, great costumes, and strong production design.  All of these elements come together under the direction of Kang Hyeong-cheol, who expertly bring to life his own sensational script.  Kang previously made the enormously successful Scandal Makers (2008) but he has outdone himself this time around by deftly applying a formula of friendship, music, memory, social commentary, and a little Disney Magic, to what will easily be one of the finest films of 2011.

★★★★☆

The young protagonists of Sunny

Reviews and features on Korean film appear regularly on Modern Korean Cinema.  For film news, external reviews, and box office analysis, take a look at the Korean Box Office Update, Korean Cinema News and the Weekly Review Round-up, which appear weekly on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings (GMT+1).

To keep up with the best in Korean film you can sign up to our RSS Feed, like us on Facebook, or follow us on Twitter.

Children ... (A-i-deul...) 2011

Children… opens with a young boy running in slow motion in a red cape in rural Korea in the early 1990s, accompanied by stirring music, a Korean Mendelssohn-esque string symphony. Right from the bat this is an emotional affair, the kind of scene that Korean filmmakers are so adept at. They can wring out feelings from their spectators without even presenting a story or real characters. All they need are a few symbolic images and some top-flight mise-en-scene and we are powerless to resist. The next few minutes quickly set the scene for something ominous to happen, once again without giving us any real information. The cinematography and exceptional score do all the work and give us everything we need to know.

Opening shot

I went into this film not knowing a thing about it but it was easy to tell where it was going from those opening moments before the title shot. I was reminded of Friend (2001) and Memories of Murder (2003) in equal measure. Naturally I grew very excited and eagerly followed the plot as a group of children go missing and are not found. A few years later a shamed TV producer (Park Yong-woo) comes to the town and starts his own investigation in order to rebuild his reputation. He enlists the help a professor (Ryoo Seung-yong) with a few crazy ideas but encounters the resistance of the local law enforcement. The narrative doesn’t quite follow where you think it will after that but I will let you discover that for yourself.

The music in this film was truly extraordinary, not just in its quality but also in its power when combined with the visual medium. This brings me to an interesting question: how is it that from time to time we can experience a potent degree of catharsis without having followed a narrative or any character’s trajectory? Children… successfully raised a lump in my throat and made me feel something before I even knew any of the character’s names. Sadly the film did not ultimately follow through on this as I felt it was rife with problems, and yet at numerous points during the film I found myself affected by the evocative music and impressive technical skill on display.

Park Yong-woo as the TV producer

Music is used in cinema (and television) to heighten the emotions of a certain scene. The best examples of this are the short staccato and loud spikes in horror, the sweeping strings in melodrama, and the bombastic orchestral pieces used in epics, war, and action films. There are numerous other examples but those three display their effectiveness and their potential. Music can lift a dull scene, get the heart racing, or unscrew the valve to your tear ducts, but it isn’t often that it will completely hijack your state of mind irrespective of what is on screen. It does happen of course, there are certain pieces of music that are so well-known and beautiful that they will always prompt a strong reaction. Good examples are the second movement of Beethoven’s 7th symphony and Debussy’s Claire de lune, both overused at this point but it’s easy to see why. On a purely subjective level each and every one of us may react differently to individual pieces, it’s extraordinary how one piece of music may change your perception of a film.

Ryoo Seung-yong as the professor

Korean films often have excellent scores, I’m sure that there are a handful of composers that are at the heart of this but I couldn’t tell you who they are. Children… started to lose me, especially in the second half but every times they broke out the strings I was helpless, captivated, but by what and why? Let’s go back to the opening scene and examine it, music, slow-mo, boy running in red cape, 20 years ago. The little information at hand is actually crucial and as much as this scene may elicit an emotional response from a foreign viewer, I imagine it must be even more so for a Korean. The red cape brings to mind the bloody Gwangju massacre of 1980, in which thousands of students dressed in red were slaughtered by the military government for protesting. The dinky village roads and muted colors (save for the red) evoke the still recent past of a country which has suffered an enormous amount of trauma. What’s impressive is that I think the scene is still powerful even if you are not privy to that information.

As for the rest of the film, there are a number of interesting themes that are presented. There is the process of grief in Korea, which is shown in a manipulative and rather ham-fisted way and includes themes of the role of the parent and sacrifice. Then there is a veiled commentary on the passage of time in modern Korean society as the disappearance of the youths is all but forgotten as the nation moves on. Not all move on though and it is not only the parents who refuse to let go but the professor as well. He reminds me of the intellectuals in the Korean New Wave films of the 1980s and early 1990s. It seems like a criticism of the systematic glossing over of a national history that has become too difficult to bear, it is easier to forget.

Emotional but somewhat manipulative

That last point seems very familiar, indeed I’ve already mentioned it, but I think that Children… takes more than a few pointers from Memories of Murder and as it warrants the comparison it must be said that it pales significantly in its wake. Other than that the film suffers from an odd structure, an excessive running time, somewhat undeveloped characters, and too much reliance on forced melodrama. The parts that work, and I’ve described them at length, work wonderfully and are more-or-less worth giving the film a chance but they are not supported by a substantive narrative. Maybe I’m getting a little tired of kids going missing films, the last 12 months alone have given us Children…, Man of Vendetta (2010), and No Doubt (2010), all of which fell short in some regard.


Reviews and features on Korean film appear regularly on Modern Korean Cinema.  For film news, external reviews, and box office analysis, take a look at the Korean Box Office Update, Korean Cinema News and the Weekly Review Round-up, which appear weekly on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings (GMT+1).

To keep up with the best in Korean film you can sign up to our RSS Feed, like us on Facebook, or follow us on Twitter.