Following his acclaimed indie 10 Minutes, director Lee Yong-seung once again examines the plight of the working man in Korea with his commercial debut Room No. 7, which serves as the opening film of this year's Bucheon International Fantastic Film Festival (BiFan). Shin Ha-kyun and new star Doh Kyung-soo partner up for the pressure cooker comedy with a hint of genre flair.
Showing posts with label shin ha-kyun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shin ha-kyun. Show all posts
Monday, August 7, 2017
BiFan 2017 Review: ROOM NO. 7 Gets A 6 At Best
Following his acclaimed indie 10 Minutes, director Lee Yong-seung once again examines the plight of the working man in Korea with his commercial debut Room No. 7, which serves as the opening film of this year's Bucheon International Fantastic Film Festival (BiFan). Shin Ha-kyun and new star Doh Kyung-soo partner up for the pressure cooker comedy with a hint of genre flair.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Review: REAL Makes Korean Noir Gloriously Camp, Weird and Amazing
In the same week that a new release was embraced by the media (Bong Joon-ho's Okja), another was making headlines for all the wrong reasons. So strong was the vitriol for Real, a vehicle for Asian superstar heartthrob Kim Soo-hyun (Secretly Greatly), that lambasting it on social media quickly turned into a sport.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Review: WELCOME TO DONGMAKGOL Is a Surreal Anti-War Drama
By Chris Horn
There is perhaps no region better suited to make a unique anti-war film than Korea, a country itself split and in a constant state of escalated threats of renewed warfare. Not quite content to make a film weighed down by excessive melodrama, new director Park Kwang-hyun made a splash in 2005 with his quirky, surreal adaptation of Jang Jin’s well-regarded play Welcome to Dongmakgol. Though imperfect, this feature film debut ultimately proves more memorable than most other anti-war films that pile on the misery.
There is perhaps no region better suited to make a unique anti-war film than Korea, a country itself split and in a constant state of escalated threats of renewed warfare. Not quite content to make a film weighed down by excessive melodrama, new director Park Kwang-hyun made a splash in 2005 with his quirky, surreal adaptation of Jang Jin’s well-regarded play Welcome to Dongmakgol. Though imperfect, this feature film debut ultimately proves more memorable than most other anti-war films that pile on the misery.
Monday, August 27, 2012
KOFFIA 2012: The Front Line (고지전, Gojijeon) 2011
Part of MKC's coverage of the 3rd Korean Film Festival in Australia (previously published).
Before getting into a discussion about Jang Hoon’s much-ballyhooed new feature The Front Line, I feel that I should mention that over the years I have had a troubled relationship with war films. I have seen all kinds, from different eras, different countries, detailing different fights, and espousing all sorts of different points of view. On a cold Sunday afternoon, there isn’t a whole lot that can beat a repeat viewing of seminal classics like David Lean’s The Bridge on the River Kwai (1956), John Sturges’ The Great Escape (1963), or Billy Wilder’s Stalag 17 (1953). Those are actually all POW (Prisoner of War) films but there is a great wealth of others that I can always return to, including: Masaki Kobayashi’s The Human Condition trilogy (1959-1961), Kon Ichikawa’s The Burmese Harp (1956) and Fires on the Plain (1959), Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979) or HBO’s 10-part mini-series Band of Brothers (2001).
When the elements fall into place, a good war film is one of the most engaging types of entertainment across any medium but that correct balance is a difficult thing to achieve. War films differ from other genres as they are naturally rooted in spectacle, feature little to no romance or indeed female protagonists, and must frequently sacrifice characters on the battlefield. What’s more, rather than following a personal trajectory, the main thrust of the narrative is often consumed by a story far greater than the leads that we are to bond with on screen.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
The Front Line (고지전, Gojijeon) 2011
Before getting into a discussion about Jang Hoon’s much-ballyhooed new feature The Front Line, I feel that I should mention that over the years I have had a troubled relationship with war films. I have seen all kinds, from different eras, different countries, detailing different fights, and espousing all sorts of different points of view. On a cold Sunday afternoon, there isn’t a whole lot that can beat a repeat viewing of seminal classics like David Lean’s The Bridge on the River Kwai (1956), John Sturges’ The Great Escape (1963), or Billy Wilder’s Stalag 17 (1953). Those are actually all POW (Prisoner of War) films but there is a great wealth of others that I can always return to, including: Masaki Kobayashi’s The Human Condition trilogy (1959-1961), Kon Ichikawa’s The Burmese Harp (1956) and Fires on the Plain (1959), Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979) or HBO’s 10-part mini-series Band of Brothers (2001).
When the elements fall into place, a
good war film is one of the most engaging types of entertainment across any
medium but that correct balance is a difficult thing to achieve. War films differ from other genres as
they are naturally rooted in spectacle, feature little to no romance or indeed
female protagonists, and must frequently sacrifice characters on the
battlefield. What’s more, rather
than following a personal trajectory, the main thrust of the narrative is often
consumed by a story far greater than the leads that we are to bond with on
screen.
More and more I find myself apprehensive when I hear about a
new war film since I don’t think they make them as well as they used to. Regarding past conflicts like WWII and
Vietnam, it feels like most of the great films have already been made. The immediacy has past and while
revisionism and objectivism can motivate new and interesting views on these
military operations, for the most part, the ‘epic’ feel of these past films is a
rare achievement in today’s cinematic landscape.
Before watching The Front Line, my expectations were mixed. On the one hand it is Jang Hoon’s third
film and his previous two, Secret
Reunion (2010) and especially Rough
Cut (2008), have been great films.
On the other, it is a war film and, as I have outlined, my relationship
with these is problematic. More
troubling still was the mixed reaction it received from many critics and
cinephiles whose opinion I trust, although it also received significant industry recognition, including Best Film accolades at the Daejong
Film Awards and the Critics’ Choice Awards, which somewhat offset my reservations.
In 1953 during the Korean war, lengthy negotiations are underway for a ceasefire, while the
fight rages on for the Aerok Hill, the possession of which switches endlessly
between the North and the South.
After a company commander of the South Korea army is found dead as a
result of friendly fire, Kang Eun-pyo (Shin Ha-kyun) is sent to the front line
to investigate. He meets a friend
there, Kim Soo-hyeok (Ko Soo), who he assumed had died but has in fact turned
into a seasoned soldier. The whole
company is battle-hardened and due to significant casualties the officers are
youths who have long since lost their innocence. Alligator company continues to wage war for a small hill as the peace talks drag on, with no end in sight.
There is a steadily growing canon of Korean War films (to be
clear I mean those made by Koreans) which include Taegukgi (2004), Welcome to
Dongmakgol (2005), and 71: Into the
Fire (2010). As it happens,
these are all great films but they are also heavily focused on the relationship
between North and South Korea, though less explicitly in the case of 71. Such a thematic strand is inevitable but it is also
unique. It serves to separate
Korean war films from other military oeuvres. The Front Line
deals with this issue head-on from a stance that seeks to call to mind the
futility of war, the archetypal theme of the war film. While it addresses this theme
effectively it can’t be said to be too original, I preferred Taegukgi’s unsubtle but apt metaphor of
brothers being torn apart which paralleled the much larger proceedings
surrounding them, one, by the way, which is rehashed in here in the
relationship between Eun-pyo and Soo-hyeok
Park Sang-yeon’s script is grandiloquent in its exploration of this theme, brimming with pithy aphorisms such as “The whole world is telling us to fight, but this fog is telling us not to” and “Do you know why you're losing? Because you don't know why you're fighting”. We are so accustomed to anti-war messages that when heavy-handed interjections such as these come along they tend to come off as trite. War films are a worthwhile form of entertainment but they need to have more to express than this oft-mined topic. The problem is that The Front Line feels like a chamber piece where this one motif reverberates off of everything, drubbing you with its ethical superiority.
Furthermore, the single location used for the bulk of the film, despite numerous styles and visual tricks used to render it more interesting, reinforce this feeling of it being a chamber piece. The film feels small, though perhaps deliberatly so as Jang aims for a claustrophobic atmosphere in the battlefield and frequently breaks rules of spacial mapping which serve to disorient us. Despite this, the battles scenes are often impressive, a number of great tracking shots and large, magnificent canvasses are extremely effective.
The
Front Line is well made and features some stunning production design as
well as some strong cinematography, I particularly liked the heavy Dutch tilts
of some of the shots. By and large
though, it feels like a missed opportunity. Jang exhibits a sure hand as a filmmaker but his big style can't overcome a disappointing script, especially as it segues into a mawkish and protracted finale after giving us a false climax. The film is well worth a watch though, for some strong performances, especially from Shin Ha-kyun and Lee Je-hoon, and some very convincing set pieces.
The Cine-Asia release of The Front Line is out on DVD/Blu-ray February 27 in the UK.
The Cine-Asia release of The Front Line is out on DVD/Blu-ray February 27 in the UK.
★★★☆☆
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.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Interview: 'The Front Line' Director Jang Hoon
With three big films under his belt, Jang Hoon is now seen as one of Korea's top directing talents. His films have met with great success but they have also been critically acclaimed. His male-centric, dual protagonist narratives explore ambiguous but often familiar territory. They are films that have highlighted the paradoxical social ills of Korea but they are also engaging thrillers that have attracted droves of spectators to the theatres with their potent mix of wry humour and sharp plotting.
Jang burst out on to the scene in 2008 with Rough Cut, penned and produced by his then mentor Kim Ki-duk, a blistering gangster film that cleverly confuses the lines between the gangster and filmmaking worlds. As well as being one of the most fascinating genre films to come out of South Korea in recent times, Rough Cut is also a supremely entertaining satire. His next film was the blockbuster Secret Reunion, starring Song Kang-ho and Kang Dong-won as a former South Korean agent and a North Korean spy who form an unlikely partnership. Humour plays a big part in Jang's sophomore feature despite its weighty subject matter. It went on to become the second-highest grossing film of 2010.
Recently, MKC was able to ask him a few questions courtesy of Cine-Asia to coincide with the recent UK release of The Front Line on DVD and Blu-Ray. He talks about Lee Chang-dong, cinematography, the division of the Korean peninsula and his new film The Front Line:
1. In terms of structure, The Front Line is quite different from other war films. How did you and writer Park Sang-yeon choose to approach this?
I came onboard to this project after a draft of the script was completed by writer Park and the producer. Park and I shared lots of ideas while revising the script and during the pre-production, more plot details were ironed out.
2. Over the last decade a number of high profile Korean war films have been released. With The Front Line, what were you hoping to add to this impressive group of films?
The film tells the story of how the war ended, whereas many other films start from its beginning. There is still a long road ahead before peace settles in this peninsula and I wanted to show this movie, especially to younger generations, to allow them to question the historic war and the current North-South relationship.
3. Your last two features have explicitly dealt with the rift on the Korean peninsula, do you find yourself particularly drawn to this subject?
Living in the only divided country in the world, we (Koreans) all have some interest in the relationship between the North and the South. Being one of them and sharing this common interest, I started to develop this story with that in mind.
4. You have worked with different cinematographers (Kim Woo-hyung, Lee Mo-gae, and Kim Gi-tae) on each of your films, which as a result are quite distinct from one another. Is this a conscious decision to separate the style of each film and how would you describe your working relationship with your directors of photography?
Due to the different circumstances of previous films, I have worked with three different cinematographers and thanks to their distinctive characteristics I was able to accumulate unique experiences and partnerships. We had many discussions concerning the most suitable cinematographic style for each film.
5. You made your debut as a director at a time when the future of Korean cinema seemed uncertain. How do you feel the industry has progressed since then and what do you think the future holds in store for Korean film?
Korean audiences are very adept with the internet and social networks, which have become strong media for films. How they choose and judge a film has drastically changed. While many Korean films fared well last year, some blockbusters did not come close to reaching their expected outcomes. It shows that audiences are not drawn to typical dramas or expensive films anymore and in order to be more successful in this market, we have to keep developing new content and constantly evolve.
6. Would you be able to tell us a little about your future projects?
I don’t have any particular project in mind, yet, but some potential projects are being considered.
7. Finally, could you tell us what your favorite Korean films are?
Personally, I like the films of Lee Chang-dong. All his films are great and my favorites are Secret Sunshine (2007) and Poetry (2010).
Many thanks to Louise Rivers at Cine-Asia for setting up the interview!
Modern Korean Cinema's review of The Front Line.
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Save the Green Planet (2003) and My Discovery of Korean Cinema - Part II
Originally posted on New Korean Cinema on January 24th, 2012
What I love about Save the Green Planet is its boundless energy and unchecked ambition. It must be said that not everything works, to be honest, for some viewers maybe very little works, but rookie director Jang Joon-hwan doesn’t seem to have worried too much about what stuck and what didn’t, he was just having too much fun with the material (which he wrote) to worry about being measured or diplomatic. The end work reflects this style as Jang’s filmmaking exuberance is infectious and the fun transmits directly to the viewer. There’s no question that we share in his experience of having made this film. The danger of course is that Jang’s film may have been a flash in the pan, it’s been eight years already and he has yet to tackle a sophomore feature though he did participate in 2010’s omnibus Camelia which I haven’t seen but have not read any great notices for. More than anything, these days he’s know as successful actress Moon So-ri’s (Oasis, 2002) husband.
Byeong-gu (Shin Ha-kyun) believes in aliens, not only that but he believes that they are planning to destroy the planet and that he is the man to stop them. Armed with pepper spray, a helmet and garbage bag garb to block alien brain waves, and his unwavering purpose, he and his tightrope walking girlfriend kidnap Man-shik, the CEO of a major corporation. Byeong-gu believes that Man-shik (Baek Yoon-shik) is an alien and is determined to extract information from him in his isolated hillside lair in Kangwon province.
Essentially the film is a B-movie that splices in many cultish and violent elements to mount a frenzied and anarchic narrative. For much of the film this is what Jang achieves but he does so with much more care and skill than we expect from other films of the same ilk. The film immediately opens up with comedy and sci-fi before quickly moving on to what is tantamount to horror and torture porn. Soon Jang throws in some procedural elements as the hunt is on for Man-shik’s abductor. However it is at the two-thirds point that the film truly shows us what it is. Its scope, which was already substantial, takes on voluminous proportions as we are filled in on Byeong-gu’s backstory and his connection to Man-shik, not to mention what may be behind his paranoia.
*SPOILERS HEREIN*
Like many a Korean film before it and just as many that followed, Save the Green Planet delves into its protagonist’s past and weaves the narrative threads together with melodrama. Seemingly a tough proposition, this actually works remarkably well in the form of a well-edited montage, aided by a moving and lush string theme led by a melancholy cello. If this weren’t enough our quick journey through Byeong-gu’s life serves as a searing indictment of society and authority in recent Korean history. Suddenly what seemed like a curious oddity, albeit an exhilarating one, is infused with purpose. But Save the Green Planet is an especially special kind of film so woe betide it to stop just there as Jang punches into high gear with a big leap up to the macro level.
When Man-shik finally confesses his origin a new montage unfurls which hurtles us through an alternate history of our entire civilization. It’s a witty and crafty story but it too hides an ace up its sleeve as Man-shik recounts the atrocities of human civilizations, accompanied with footage of some of our unbecoming history’s most infamous acts of iniquity. Jang is lamenting the violent gene inherent in our species but it’s a double-edged sword as he fully recognizes and embraces its existence in his own DNA, as evidenced by the violent nature of his film.
*END OF SPOILER*
It should be a priority for anyone serious about Korean cinema or indeed cinema in general to take the time to watch this film. Easily one of the most innovative works made in the last ten years, Save the Green Planet is a veritable tour-de-force that almost redefines the purpose and possibility of cinema. Out of the many trips I’ve taken to the theater, which stretch well past a thousand, the midnight screening of Jang’s film is still my fondest silver screen experience.
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Monday, February 20, 2012
Save the Green Planet (2003) and My Discovery of Korean Cinema - Part I
Originally posted on New Korean Cinema on January 24th, 2012
On this particular Saturday night near the end of 2004 I caught a late show at around ten o’clock but I can’t for the life of me remember what I saw. But what I’ll never forget is what I watched next. In those days while the distribution company Tartan was still solvent, they used to stage an ‘Asia Extreme’ roadshow which, according to Film Cut, “toured then UGC cinemas (now Cineworld Cinemas) around the UK with the programme of films that Tartan considers to be the most daring examples of ‘extreme cinema’.” I had seen a funny-looking poster of a grinning man wearing a garbage bag while riding planet Earth and I decided to watch this film based solely on the fact that it was Korean. Back then I had only dabbled in Korean films but what I had seen had left a strong impression on me.
My first introduction to Asian cinema came when I was researching some versions of Macbeth I could watch for my English class in secondary school. Having already got my hands on Orson Welles’ and Roman Polanski’s versions I dug a little deeper and heard about an old Japanese film called Throne of Blood (1956) by some guy called Akira Kurosawa. The title seemed a little silly to me but I’d heard it was quite good so I tracked down a BFI copy on Amazon and popped it in the player. I think it’s fair to say that the axis of my life shifted somewhat that day. Kurosawa’s take on Shakespeare was brilliant, it was magnificent, it was mesmerizing, and I was in awe. Completely forgetting about my English class I delved headfirst into Japanese cinema and I rarely came up for air for months.
A while later I was browsing through the Asian film section of my local FNAC (a French media retailer) in Switzerland when I came across a really nifty deluxe, embossed, double-DVD package. It was green, there was some shiny blood on the cover, it looked kind of out there, and it had a really cool name so I picked it up thinking it might be somewhat akin to a Takashi Miike film, whose catalogue I was raging through at the time. The film was Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (2002) and it was nothing like all the Japanese films I had seen because of course it was Korean, but I hated it. It was unremittingly bleak and gratuitously violent, which I was no stranger to, but in a manner that was so downbeat and realistic that I was traumatized by it for a week, until I was compelled to watch it again. During the second go-round, once again my axis shifted ever so slightly. I was beguiled and repulsed at the same time, anger and sadness coursed through me but it was not my own. Though I would not know it for a while, I had stumbled upon ‘han’, the melancholy which permeates so many of the very best Korean films. For the time being I was electrified and I needed more, so back to the shelves of FNAC I went. This time I came back with a double bill of Peppermint Candy (1999) and The Isle (2000). The former taught me infinitely more about Korea than I had ever known and the latter shocked and impressed me. This introductory triptych of Korean film already had me drawing parallels and marveling at how an emerging national cinema could be so fresh, self-aware, and successful.
It was this feeling that led me into the theater that was exhibiting a midnight séance of Save the Green Planet (2003), despite the tacky poster. I was the first person there so I had my choice of seating, as I always do I opted for dead centre in the middle row. As it turned out I was the only person who came in for this screening but that was fine by me. I had no expectations for the film and I certainly didn’t think it could match any of the three Korean works I had already seen but then the projector started rolling.
It’s a funny thing to be surprised these days, more and more we are trained to expect things. We witness events and minutiae unfold in an infinite cycle of cause and effect. When we walk into a theater we are loaded to the gills with expectations. In the grand scheme of things there is actually very little that we don’t know regarding what we are about to see. We know it’s a film, we assume there will be images projected on screen and that some combination of dialogue, music, and foley sound will blare out from the sound system. We’re fairly certain that there will be people, a story, relationships, props, locations, and much, much more. All that even before the media barrage that we are relentlessly subjected to in the digital era. We may know the actors, the director, the writer, the genre, the plot summary, or the country of origin. We may have seen the poster, the trailer, clips, seen reviews, or even read the book that the film is based on. Every so often I like to walk into a film with zero expectations, besides those very first ones I’ve listed, but increasingly it’s become very difficult to do this. Given how much I read online about films I can’t really stroll into a multiplex and not know something about every film on the marquee. The best place to do this is film festivals, even the most well-informed and up-to-date cinephile is not privy to information regarding absolutely every film on a reputable international event’s program.
On this occasion I was at a multiplex but the Tartan ‘Asia Extreme’ roadshow served as a kind of mini festival and in any case I was not familiar with a number of the films, including Save the Green Planet. The only things I knew about it were that it was Korean and that it looked weird, after a few minutes I also ascertained that Shin Ha-kyun was in it, as I knew him from Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. But before recognizing him, I was already hooked.
The opening montage, with a frenetic voiceover explaining a ludicrous theory about a businessman posing as an alien, was exuberant, wacky, and completely unexpected. It was breathlessly paced, hilarious, and featured some strong mise-en-scene which included brilliant editing and an expertly placed swell in the score. The hooks were in and I was ready for and thrilled to be on this ride.
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.
A while later I was browsing through the Asian film section of my local FNAC (a French media retailer) in Switzerland when I came across a really nifty deluxe, embossed, double-DVD package. It was green, there was some shiny blood on the cover, it looked kind of out there, and it had a really cool name so I picked it up thinking it might be somewhat akin to a Takashi Miike film, whose catalogue I was raging through at the time. The film was Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (2002) and it was nothing like all the Japanese films I had seen because of course it was Korean, but I hated it. It was unremittingly bleak and gratuitously violent, which I was no stranger to, but in a manner that was so downbeat and realistic that I was traumatized by it for a week, until I was compelled to watch it again. During the second go-round, once again my axis shifted ever so slightly. I was beguiled and repulsed at the same time, anger and sadness coursed through me but it was not my own. Though I would not know it for a while, I had stumbled upon ‘han’, the melancholy which permeates so many of the very best Korean films. For the time being I was electrified and I needed more, so back to the shelves of FNAC I went. This time I came back with a double bill of Peppermint Candy (1999) and The Isle (2000). The former taught me infinitely more about Korea than I had ever known and the latter shocked and impressed me. This introductory triptych of Korean film already had me drawing parallels and marveling at how an emerging national cinema could be so fresh, self-aware, and successful.
It was this feeling that led me into the theater that was exhibiting a midnight séance of Save the Green Planet (2003), despite the tacky poster. I was the first person there so I had my choice of seating, as I always do I opted for dead centre in the middle row. As it turned out I was the only person who came in for this screening but that was fine by me. I had no expectations for the film and I certainly didn’t think it could match any of the three Korean works I had already seen but then the projector started rolling.
It’s a funny thing to be surprised these days, more and more we are trained to expect things. We witness events and minutiae unfold in an infinite cycle of cause and effect. When we walk into a theater we are loaded to the gills with expectations. In the grand scheme of things there is actually very little that we don’t know regarding what we are about to see. We know it’s a film, we assume there will be images projected on screen and that some combination of dialogue, music, and foley sound will blare out from the sound system. We’re fairly certain that there will be people, a story, relationships, props, locations, and much, much more. All that even before the media barrage that we are relentlessly subjected to in the digital era. We may know the actors, the director, the writer, the genre, the plot summary, or the country of origin. We may have seen the poster, the trailer, clips, seen reviews, or even read the book that the film is based on. Every so often I like to walk into a film with zero expectations, besides those very first ones I’ve listed, but increasingly it’s become very difficult to do this. Given how much I read online about films I can’t really stroll into a multiplex and not know something about every film on the marquee. The best place to do this is film festivals, even the most well-informed and up-to-date cinephile is not privy to information regarding absolutely every film on a reputable international event’s program.
On this occasion I was at a multiplex but the Tartan ‘Asia Extreme’ roadshow served as a kind of mini festival and in any case I was not familiar with a number of the films, including Save the Green Planet. The only things I knew about it were that it was Korean and that it looked weird, after a few minutes I also ascertained that Shin Ha-kyun was in it, as I knew him from Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. But before recognizing him, I was already hooked.
The opening montage, with a frenetic voiceover explaining a ludicrous theory about a businessman posing as an alien, was exuberant, wacky, and completely unexpected. It was breathlessly paced, hilarious, and featured some strong mise-en-scene which included brilliant editing and an expertly placed swell in the score. The hooks were in and I was ready for and thrilled to be on this ride.
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.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Murder, Take One (Baksu-chiltae deonara) 2005
With the release of his tenth film earlier this year (Romantic Heaven, 2011), it is a good time to look back over Jang Jin’s impressive output and immense contribution to Korean cinema. Formerly a playwright, Jang has regaled audiences over the last decade with his clever, genre-bending, and socially relevant films. Aside from the ten films he has directed, which include Guns & Talk (2001), Someone Special (2004), and Good Morning President (2009), he has also found great success in the films he has written (some based on his plays) and produced. These include the enormously successful Welcome to Dongmakgol (2005) and the brilliant Going By the Book (2007). What his evident throughout his oeuvre is foremost his sparkling dialogue and his astute bending of generic conventions. His films can all be labeled as comedies but to leave it at that would do him a great injustice. His mordant wit cuts through a society that is still reeling from a past fraught with violence and encumbered by authoritarian governments and an incompetent civil service. His films have taken aim at the police (Going By the Book), politics (Good Morning President), and the media, among other things.
The final section of the film, which focuses firmly on the case, underwhelms yet still achieves its likely intention of subverting audience expectations. Throughout the film the dialogue is amazing and those who speak it, do so well and with gusto. Shin Ha-kyun, who starts out as a primary character but gently fades away (sadly), is a standout. While not one of Jang’s best it is still a thoughtful and clever addition to his filmography and a valuable and worthwhile entry for Korean film fans.
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.
Impressive opening sequence |
Murder, Take One uses a clever concept which explores in equal measure the preying eye of the media and the oppressive authority exercised by local law enforcement. The film opens with a fresh murder in a hotel and then showcases its investigation by the police which is, and here’s the hook, being televised nationally. The police exhibit violence, incompetence, and in-fighting, which is typical of Jang’s films and of Korean cinema in general; the media is intrusive, sensationalist, and exploitative; and the suspects all have their motives which fit into one melodramatic trope or another.
Jung Jae-yeong and his gang |
Jang bombards us with a vast amount of themes, ideas, styles, motifs, and genres all throughout the film’s opening salvo which is a virtuoso display of technique and craft as we are brought up to speed on the crime scene and all the characters that populate and surround it. As impressive as the visuals are, what most struck me in this scene was the sound: first of all the great music, but then the build up of voices and sounds blending into eachother. Couple this with the shot which begins by swirling above the victim’s body but then pulling out to reveal the contents of all the adjoining hotel rooms and what you have is a mosaic of intersecting lives. The body and thus the murder are only a small part of the tableau, Jang demonstrates early on that while ostensibly a procedural, Murder, Take One will not limit itself to the search for the answer to one question, who killed the girl? Instead, as it lumbers more or less along that trajectory, it will invite us to learn about peripheral characters and witness a veritable range of interactions. Characters frequently veer into pedantic, irrelevant, and hilarious details. The early interrogation scene is a brilliant display of acting and poor communication which, despite being watched by millions on TV, devolves into a silly argument over linguistics, the irony is sublime.
Cha Seung-won and Shin Ha-gyun argue about language |
Without accepting this intention, it will be difficult to appreciate the film. As a procedural it is certainly interesting but it does not follow a satisfying trajectory, as a comedy it often seems to be stop-start and sadly without a firm grasp of Korean (which I do not possess) it appears that much is lost in translation. As other reviewers have noted, the joy of watching this film will come from your appreciation of the bit roles and supporting characters. Jung Jae-yeong, one of my favorite Korean actors, appears briefly as an odd gangster and is hilarious as always. From a technical standpoint the film looks and sounds great, although I wonder if aside from a few key scenes Jang just went through the motions. A lot of the proceedings feel like a 1980s Hong Kong action flick, perhaps it was easier to follow that blueprint for the obligatory procedural scenes which seem to detract from the real focus of the film: the characters and their interactions.
The final section of the film, which focuses firmly on the case, underwhelms yet still achieves its likely intention of subverting audience expectations. Throughout the film the dialogue is amazing and those who speak it, do so well and with gusto. Shin Ha-kyun, who starts out as a primary character but gently fades away (sadly), is a standout. While not one of Jang’s best it is still a thoughtful and clever addition to his filmography and a valuable and worthwhile entry for Korean film fans.
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