2007 MINI

2007 MINI

The New York Korean Film Festival, screening from August 21 through September 2, 2007 at Cinema Village, IFC Center and BAM Rose Cinemas, once again highlights the remarkable diversity of current Korean cinema. The Korean film industry is now facing uncertain times, to say the least. The reduction of the screen quota by half, along with increased competition from Hollywood (blockbusters such as Pirates of the Caribbean, Shrek 3, Spiderman 3, and Transformers dominated this summer's box office), as well as waning interest from such formerly reliable Asian markets as Japan and Hong Kong, soaring production costs, and costly flops, have had some observers declaring that the "Korean wave" of the past few years has crashed. However, there may be a light at the end of this dark tunnel, with two recent domestic hits, May 18 (which revisits the 1980 Kwangju protest massacre), and D-War (an English-language monster movie based on an ancient Korean legend), currently breaking records. So the fortunes for the Korean industry may be turning. On August 23 at the Korea Society, a panel discussion, titled "Is the 'Korean Wave' Dead? The Future of Korean Pop Culture," will focus on the current state of the Korean film industry. Below are some notable films from this year's selections.

Im Sang-soo's The Old Garden, based on a novel by celebrated dissident writer Hwang Seok-young, recreates the turbulent period of the 1980's, represented by the memories of Hyun-woo (Ji Jin-hee), who at the film's outset has been released from jail after serving a 17-year jail sentence for anti-government activism. He gets out of prison to learn that his lover and the mother of his child, Yoon-hee (Yeom Jung-ah) has died from cancer. This occasions a trip to the place where they met, and also a trip through his memories of their relationship. Yoon-hee, an art teacher at a nearby school, is a disillusioned ex-activist. She nevertheless agrees to hide Hyun-woo, wanted by the government, at her house, because of her outrage at the recent massacre of activists at Kwangju. Quickly they begin a relationship, which is troubled due to Hyun-woo's insistence on traveling to Seoul to check on his comrades, and Yoon-hee's feeling that he puts his political convictions above his feelings for her. After Hyun-woo is caught by the police and begins his long jail sentence, Yoon-hee struggles to come to terms with both her anger at him and her still strong feelings for him. She now has a daughter by him, a fact which Yoon-hee hides from Hyun-woo for the rest of her life.

Im Sang-soo revisits a still fresh wound on Korean history, much as he did with his previous film, the darkly satirical The President's Last Bang, which re-imagined the assassination of authoritarian leader Park Chung-hee. The Old Garden examines the era of Park's successor Chun Doo-hwan, who proved to be just as intolerant of dissent and brutal toward activists, if not even more so, than Park. While the government's extreme tactics and violence toward the citizenry are vividly captured in the scenes of protest, and of Hyun-woo's prison torture, the activists themselves are not free from criticism. In an especially barbed scene, the activists' pompous rhetoric and own authoritarian tendencies are held up for ridicule, with extreme close-ups of the debating mouths spouting empty political platitudes. The film casts a rather jaundiced eye on these idealists who often forced members to sacrifice themselves for the sake of media exposure, and who are now disillusioned and apathetic. The mood of the piece, exemplified by the truncated romance between Yoon-hee and Jung-woo, is one of exhaustion, disillusion, and regret for lost time.

While the film is beautifully shot, especially in its images of rain and snow, the film has considerable weaknesses, the most significant being the muted emotion and schematic quality of its scenario. Im's previous films excelled in creating vivid, brilliantly drawn characters who felt like fully formed human beings, for example in A Good Lawyer's Wife, his best film to date. The President's Last Bang, although pitched in a quite different register than this new film, brought its historical figures to life as complex humans. His new film lacks these qualities, and each character seems rather shallow and unformed. The Old Garden strives for more dramatic heft than his other work, but the almost mechanical shuttling back and forth between the present and the past prevents us from fully sympathizing with the characters or feeling anything for their tragic fates. This flatness also carries over into the performances. Yeom Jung-ah's character is the heart of this story, but there is a rather stiff and forbidding quality to her performance that puts us at a remove. The same goes for Ji Jin-hee. These actors have both acquitted themselves well in other films, so the fault must be placed on Im's inadequately developed script. Also, the wicked sense of humor that existed alongside the more somber elements of his other films is oddly missing here. Im has made a worthy attempt to evoke this painful period of history, but he has failed at making it a compelling vision of this time and in fully conveying the tragedies that were common features of this period.

An entertaining tribute to the power of radio and music, Lee Joon-ik's Radio Star re-teams popular actors Park Joong-hoon and Ahn Sung-ki, this being the fourth film they have starred in together, after Chilsu and Mansu, Two Cops, and Nowhere to Hide. Park this time is Choi Gon, a washed-up former rock star managed by Min-soo (Ahn), reduced to singing in cafes and getting arrested due to his violent temper. After the latest of these episodes, Min-soo arranges the bail money for Gon's release from jail, with one catch: he must work as a DJ at the local radio station in Yongwon, a sleepy backwater town. Gon sees this as the ultimate humiliation, but has no choice but to accept. He has a rough time with his first show, due to his unwillingness to participate, a relatively untested young producer (Choi Jeong-yoon), and an expletive-filled on-air phone call from the man Min-soo borrowed the bail money from. However, the show quickly gains popularity, and becomes a community center, a source of advice, and a bulletin board. The townspeople are wonderfully drawn, and are generously given their moments to shine. For example, there is the coffee-shop girl Sun-ok (Han Yeo-woon), who tearfully apologizes to her mother for running away from home; a flower-shop worker who enlists listeners' help in wooing the bank teller he is smitten with; a group of older women squabbling over the rules to their card game. Throughout the film, the corporate world of Seoul is contrasted with the more down-home qualities of regional towns.

Radio Star is Lee's follow-up to his historical drama The King and the Clown (also screening at this year's festival), the top box-office hit of all time in Korea before Bong Joon-ho's The Host bested it last year. His first contemporary story after his historical films, including his debut Once Upon a Time in the Battlefield, his new film nicely balances humor and more poignant moments. Ahn Sung-ki is especially fine as Choi Gon's long-suffering manager, whose intense loyalty to his charge causes him to neglect his own family. Despite their dissimilar settings, Radio Star shares some interesting affinities with The King and the Clown. Both films concern performers and how their art impacts their personal lives. The court jesters of King and the Clown and the musicians of Radio Star are passionate about their art; in the latter film the aspiring rock band East River doggedly pursue their idol Choi Gon, petitioning him to help them get their big break. Also, both films are affecting portraits of male friendship, and the complex relationships, breakups and reunions of the male characters are given center stage. Radio Star confirms Lee's considerable talents at making effortlessly entertaining films told with visual flair and vivid attention to character.

Kim Myung-joon's documentary Our School follows a year in the life of a Korean school in Hokkaido, Japan, one of 60 such schools in Japan that educate the third and fourth-generation ethnic Koreans born and raised in Japan. The schools were created after Korea's liberation from Japanese colonization at the end of World War II. These schools have mainly been supported by North Korea since the country's division after the Korean War. These schools are more than simply educational institutions: they are a source of national pride, a way for the students to discover their identity as Koreans, and also an escape from the discrimination they experience as Koreans in Japan. Because of the North Korean support, there is much talk of unification between the two Koreas, and a ritual for the 12th grade students is a trip to the "fatherland" of North Korea. This occasions an epiphany for the director while making this film. Since Kim is a South Korean citizen, he is not allowed to accompany the students on their trip to North Korea. "I understood for the first time in my life that my country is divided in two," he remarks in a voiceover.

Kim examines in great depth the lives of the students and the various circumstances that have brought them to this school. Korean schools have a very hard time in the larger Japanese society, since they are only considered vocational schools, and as such don't count in the Japanese school system. These schools are also denied the tax benefits that Japanese schools get. Korean-school graduates wishing to go on to Japanese universities must take an extra exam in order to qualify for admission. Nevertheless, these schools afford many benefits for the students. They come to feel pride in their own identity, and they learn to not be ashamed of being Korean in a society that is often hostile to them. The final scenes, in which the graduating class tearfully bids farewell to their school, are very moving, and we feel their apprehension at having to leave this nurturing environment.

Kim Yong-hwa's 200 Pound Beauty is a very silly farce that would make an interesting double-bill with Kim Ki-duk's Time, since both films deal with the phenomenon of plastic surgery. Based on a manga by Yumiko Suzuki, the film's farcical premise concerns Hanna (Kim A-joong), an overweight singer who provides the offstage voice for haughty non-singing pop star Ammy (Seo Yun). She spends her life hidden away from public view, using her voice to make a living; she moonlights on a phone-sex line. She is in love with Ammy's stage director Sang-jun (Ju Jin-mo). After overhearing a humiliating conversation about herself between Ammy and Sang-jun, she decides to undergo liposuction and full-body plastic surgery, emerging as "natural beauty" Jenny, whose true identity is initially known only to her best friend. Now a conventional beauty, she returns to her old employer incognito to pursue her dream of being a singer. This film owes practically all its virtues to Kim A-joong's wonderful comic performance. She previously made a great impression in her earlier film When Romance Meets Destiny, and carries this film with great charm and timing, even underneath layers of prosthetics and despite rather cheap jokes based on her size (she falls through a stage; doctors cannot lift her into an ambulance after she OD's on diet pills). Her first day in her new body is beautifully acted, as she revels in finally being able to buy a dress she coveted in her heavier days, ecstatically twirling in the street to the quizzical stares of passersby. She makes this predictable premise believable, and is a continually riveting presence. The film tries to have its cake and eat it too (pardon the pun), seeming to decry the rigid standards of beauty that women feel compelled to conform to, but at the same time having its happy ending predicated on her physical change. Nevertheless, the film was deservedly a massive hit upon its release in Korea earlier this year, again entirely due to Kim's flawless performance.

Kim Sung-woo's Unstoppable Marriage is a rather hackneyed Romeo-and-Juliet romantic farce about a young couple, Eun-ho (pop star Yoo Jin [Eugene]) and Ki-baek (Ha Seok-jin) who has obstacles placed in their path by their bickering potential in-laws: Ki-baek's mother, a nouveau-riche landowner (veteran actress Kim Soo-mi), and Eun-ho's father (Lim Chae-moo), a martial-arts instructor and former marine. Kim Soo-mi's patented foul-mouthed shtick can work in the right circumstances (for example in the far superior comedy Mapado), but here she simply comes off as shrill and grating. Ki-baek's mother has her sights set on land for a new golf course, but she is thwarted by Eun-ho's father, who refuses to sell the last bit of property she needs for her course. The romantic comedy clichés come fast and furious: the couple hates each other at first, but after a few plot machinations and a pair of reflective montages, they realize that they've found their soul mates. The leads are very attractive and appealing, so the film isn't quite as painfully banal as it could have been. Still, the mustiness and rather retrograde qualities of this scenario is quite palpable.

Kim Han-min's Paradise Murdered is an atmospheric thriller, a ghost story crossed with an Agatha Christie locked-door murder mystery. The tiny island of Geukrakdo, or "Paradise Island," which quickly turns out to be anything but, has its idyllic state ruptured by a series of brutal murders, which seems to dovetail with an old story about a woman who was locked up and starved to death, and whose ghost haunts the island. A young doctor Jae Woo-sung (Park Hae-il), and his assistant Gwi-nam (Park Sol-mi), investigate the murders. While it is a little slow going at first, the careful setting up of characters, as well as the rather shady secrets of the island, pay off in a big way. The denouement is genuinely surprising, and the film as a whole is a diverting, well-written work.

Huh In-moon's Herb is a melodrama that pushes all the familiar buttons, but is no less affecting for that. Sang-eun (Kang Hye-Jung), a 20 year old woman with the mental capacity of a 7-year-old, lives with her loving and patient mother Hyun-sook (Bae Jong-ok). Her imagination filled with visions from the fairy tales she loves, she meets her prince, rookie cop Jong-bum (Jeong Kyeong-ho). Kang, looking startlingly different than in such previous films as Oldboy, Rules of Dating and Welcome to Dongmakgol, successfully embodies the mannerisms and demeanor of a very young girl, and she looks very much like an anime sprite here. The film also adopts a bright children's book-style palette with fantastical touches. Hyun-sook contracts cancer, a situation that provides the tear-jerking moments of the film. Another complication occurs when Jong-bum sees Jang-eun's disability card and realizes her condition (although before this happens, he implausibly mistakes her for a lawyer). The film is an effective manipulation machine, and although the scenario is very obvious in its methods of pulling the viewer's emotional strings, it still hangs together, thanks largely to Kang's spirited performance, and Bae Jong-ok's affecting portrayal as the mother.

Lee Chang-jae's documentary Between follows the lives and rituals of the mudang, female shamans who perform exorcisms and help people communicate with their deceased loved ones. Lee's film focuses on the initiation of In-hee, a young woman who has the ability to communicate with these spirits, and out of obligation to these spirits, decides to become a mudang, which entails self-sacrifice and often physical and psychic damage. The film begins with a startling scene in which In-hee, crying and shaking with fear, receives a spirit while her mentor, Lee Hae-gyong, guides her through it. This is not a life of choice for most mudang, who are often ostracized from their families as a result. The film goes into great detail about the various shamanistic rituals. However, the film's repetitive structure presents this fascinating material in a rather numbing way. There is also very little insight about the place of these rituals in society, and since we are always looking at this from the outside, it remains a mysterious, impenetrable process. Perhaps this is appropriate to the nature of shamanism, but an earlier documentary on the same subject, Park Ki-bok's 2003 film Mudang (which screened at this festival in 2004), is much more successful in conveying the emotional nature of these rituals and is much more interesting visually.

This year's festival includes a mini-retrospective of perhaps Korean cinema's most respected and celebrated auteur, Im Kwon-taek. The four films selected are a good introduction to his beautiful work: the historical gangster film The General's Son (1990); Chunhyang (2000), Im's masterful adaptation of the Korean pansori tale; Festival (1996), featuring Ahn Sung-ki as a novelist returning to his home village to bury his mother, a delicate and exquisite film. Come, Come, Come Upward (1989) is a Buddhist parable in which Soon-nyeo (Kang Su-yeon, who also played an acclaimed performance in Im's Surrogate Mother) enters a Buddhist temple to escape her troubled family life and pursue a path opened to her by a kindly priest she meets. She struggles to follow the teachings, but her life in the convent is complicated by a man she saves from suicide who insists on clinging to her for his personal salvation. Soon-nyeo's superior then sends her out into the world, so that she can decide if she is truly ready to live an ascetic life. Soon-nyeo's path to enlightenment is contrasted with that of another nun, Jin-sung (Jin Yong-ming), who diligently follows the written teachings and follows the rituals, but still finds herself blocked. She is sent out into the world also, but unlike Soon-nyeo, who throws herself into the hustle of the outside world, with all the sexual and emotional entanglements that entails, Jin-Sung decides to live mostly in isolation from the outside world, interacting with only a sister who accompanies her part of the way, and with two very different men. One is an activist who exhorts her to participate in the social struggles of the nation, and the other is a hermit monk who castrated himself to free himself from worldly desire. Im sets up the two women's opposing experiences as a dialectical debate about the most effective way to apply Buddhist teachings to the messiness of everyday life. The film seems to be tipped in favor of Soon-nyeo's position, if only because her story gets considerably more screen time. At the film's conclusion, the two face each other and stake out their positions. Jin-sung dismisses Soon-nyeo's actions as "pathetic delusion." Soon-nyeo counters, "Without any delusion, how can you bring salvation to a deluded public?" We are left with these two irreconcilable paths: Jin-sung's detachment from the world as a way to think clearly without influence from the world's turmoil, and Soon-nyeo's approach of full engagement with the world and the search for beauty within a painful universe. Im's parable-like approach to storytelling and graceful visuals make this a rich film that resonates with each repeat viewing.

This year's festival also includes screenings of short films, and two nights dedicated to distributor Tartan Films, whose "Asia Extreme" label has exposed audiences to some of the more outré Korean genre films. Horror is dominant, with such films as Lee Woo-chul's Cello, Kim Tae Kyung's The Ghost, Ahn Byung-gi's Phone, Park Ki-hyung's Whispering Corridors (a haunted-girl's-high-school film which has spawned three sequels to date), and Kim Jee-woon's masterful and twisted Tale of Two Sisters. The series also includes Park Chan-wook's Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, a grim revenge story that is a horror story of a very different kind.

For more information on these and other films in the festival, and to purchase tickets, visit www.koreanfilmfestival.org.