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LKFF2016 REVIEWS:
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The Last Princess (덕혜옹주 / 2016)

THE LAST PRINCESS (덕혜옹주 / 2016 / Directed by Hur Jin-ho) was screened as part of the 2016 London Korean Film Festival on 9 November at Regent Street Cinema.

The following is the Hangul Celluloid review of the film:



"I tell you this, you’ll never set foot in Korea again!..."


Synopsis:

With The Last Princess, director Hur Jin-ho has stepped behind the camera for the first time since 2012’s Dangerous Liaisons to create a historical tale based on the true life story of Yi Deok-hye (played by Son Ye-jin), the last princess of Korea’s Joseon Dynasty and daughter of Emperor Go-jong (BaekYoon-sik).
During the Japanese occupation of Korea, at just 13 years of age, Deok-hye is sent to Japan to study but soon finds herself being used as a political pawn, her pleas to be allowed to return home repeatedly denied. As her time in enforced captivity stretches into years, Deok-hye meets her childhood friend Kim Jang-han (Park Hae-il), an officer in the Japanese army to whom she was betrothed in her youth, and a plan is gradually hatched to help her escape. However, pro-Japanese general Han Taek-soo (Yoon Je-moon) is determined to make sure that Deok-hye never returns home.



Review:

The Last Princess is the first cinema feature to depict the tragic life of Princess Yi Deok-hye. Inspired to make the film after watching a television documentary on her story, director Hur Jin-ho based his co-written screenplay on Kwon Bi-young’s novel 'Princess Deok-hye', in the process choosing to include fictional elements within the largely factual tale – a disclaimer to that end appearing at the very outset. Kim Jang-han, for example, didn’t exist in real life, Hur Jin-ho using the character and his search for the Princess in the 60s as a base to allow continuity over the depicted time frames of Deok-hye’s life, from youth to adulthood and eventually old age.

The scenes prior to the appearance of the main title screen - 덕혜옹주 written on a plain black background - are fairly extensive, rather than just standing as a lead-in to the main narrative to the extent that viewers will likely have forgotten they haven’t seen a title until it finally appears. Jumping straight into aging journalist Jang-han’s desperate search for a person who he hopes can lead him to the whereabouts of Deok-hye, this first section soon steps back in time to detail Deok-hye’s life as a young child in the royal palace up to the poisoning of her father, Emperor Go-jong. Not only does Deok-hye’s happy and love-filled childhood stand (subsequently) in stark contrast to her angst-ridden adult life in enforced captivity in Japan, but it also serves to introduce most of the main characters – some as children, others as younger adults – underlining where their allegiances fall so that by the time they appear in the main plot thread we are already fully aware of who they are, thereby largely negating the need for further exposition that might jar the narrative flow.




Throughout the New Korean Cinema wave of the late 90s and early 2000s, director Hur Jin-ho was pretty much known as the king of beautifully understated melodrama. The majority of his most classic films – Christmas in August, April Snow etc. – were intensely personal, intimate tales of the love between two individuals and indeed the heartbreaking pain of separation. The Last Princess is ultimately a love story, too (whether or not it outwardly appears to be) but in this case it is not love between a man and a woman but instead the princess’ love for Korea, her country, and the pain of separation comes with her being prevented from returning home to help her people in the fight against occupation and oppression. There is also a feeling throughout The Last Princess that the relationship between Deok-hye and Jang-han is on the very edge of burgeoning into love but as this is largely a factual tale, and the character of Jang-han is fictional, that could of course never ultimately be.

The above combined with the fact that a large part of The Last Princess’ narrative is focused on Jang-han and others trying to spirit Deok-hye out of Japan to Shanghai and away from evil pro-Japanese general Han Taek-soo (complete with secret meetings, bombings and indeed shootouts) may leave some feeling that the film is a step away from what we would classically expect from Hur Jin-ho, having more perhaps in common with recent large-scale stories set during the Japanese occupation of Korea – such as espionage tale Assassination. That’s not a criticism on my part (Assassination was one of the best films of 2015, after all), it’s just a statement of ‘it is what it is’ and really any such film set during the Japanese occupation is likely to be more expansive and have a greater level of action, rather than specifically screaming ‘This is classic Hur Jin-ho’. Ultimately, this larger scope combines well with the more personal detailing of Deok-hye’s heartbreakingly traumatic life to create an epic and gripping historical tale that ensures the atrocious treatment faced by the last princess of the Joseon Dynasty will not be forgotten.







So, what of the melodrama itself?
Hur Jin-ho has always been a master at creating truly believable emotional scenes in his films, in the process casting (especially) actresses who can produce real tears, seemingly on command. Such is also the case in The Last Princess but there are a couple of instances where Hur Jin-ho seems to attempt to force viewers to emote – the camera focusing on the hands of Deok-hye’s maid as she tries to hold onto a wooden handrail while Japanese soldiers drag her away in tears; a Korean man among those trying to help Deok-hye escape Japan, running in slow motion carrying a bomb which he knows will likely kill him when he sets it off; etc. The tragic details of Princess Deok-hye’s life is heartbreaking enough by its very nature and while the film certainly has a great deal of emotional depth – added to yet further by a phenomenally nuanced performance from actress Son Ye-jin – that emotion for me personally came far more when Hur Jin-ho allowed the story to almost tell itself, rather than somewhat forcing the issue.

Visually, The Last Princess is utterly sumptuous to the nth degree, production values for scenes set both in Korea and Japan giving the feeling that no expense whatsoever has been spared. As such, it will likely come as little surprise that The Last Princess experienced budget problems, prompting Son Ye-jin to personally invest almost a million dollars in the film when rising production costs threatened to derail the project. Her decision played its part in the creation of a stunningly beautiful and gripping film on the life of Yi Deok-hye, a story that truly needed to be told.


Summary:

The Last Princess is as visually sumptuous as it is epic, with an understated emotional depth underlined by an incredible performance from actress Son Ye-jin which can be almost guaranteed to bring tears to the eyes and a lump to the throat. Ultimately, this story of the last princess of the Joseon Dynasty is one that truly needed to be told.

 

THE LAST PRINCESS (덕혜옹주) / 2016 / Directed by Hur Jin-ho

 




All images © LOTTE Entertainment
Review © Paul Quinn



 

The Truth Beneath (비밀은없다 / 2016)

THE TRUTH BENEATH (비밀은없다 / 2016 / Directed by Lee Kyong-mi) was screened as the Opening Gala of the 2016 London Korean Film Festival, on 3 November at Picturehouse Central.

The following is the Hangul Celluloid review of the film:

 



"If I kill you, then I lose. Live... and pay for it!"


Synopsis:

Jong-chan (Kim Joo-hyuk) is a news anchorman turned politician who is campaigning for election. He, his wife Yeon-hong (Son Ye-jin) and their teenage daughter Min-jin (Shin Ji-hoon) lead a fairly well-to-do existence with Yeon-hong proudly standing alongside her husband in his professional campaign, providing love and support in his private life and ensuring their daughter stays on the straight and narrow. Fifteen days before election voting takes place, Min-jin fails to return home but though Yeon-hong instantly worries that something untoward has befallen her daughter, Jong-chan insists on delaying involving the police for fear it may adversely affect his political aspirations.
Hours become days without a single sign of Min-jin and with law enforcement doing next to nothing to find her, Yeon-hong decides to take matters into her own hands to find out what has happened to her daughter. However, as Yeon-hong begins her increasingly frantic investigation she is unaware of the tangled web of lies, betrayal and indeed blackmail she is about to unearth...



Review:

Follow any election campaign or listen to virtually any political speech and you’ll hear statements purporting to be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, rhetoric a somnambulant public is expected to accept at face value without question. How often, however, does hindsight reveal hidden agendas behind such oh-so-sincere claims or show them to be little more than thinly veiled lies hiding a far less altruistic truth beneath?
‘The Truth Beneath’ intricately and deftly weaves these politically related ideas as almost a subplot thread that acts as a base for the main narrative focus. That is, Yeon-hong’s desperate efforts to discover what happened to Min-jin. However, director Lee Kyoung-mi doesn’t stop there and by using the personal equivalents of these themes she is able to massively expand the characterisation of Yeon-hong – greatly increasing its depth –in the process raising questions of how her misperceptions and blinkered view may have played a part in her current situation:

In the early stages of ‘The Truth Beneath’, several scenes outwardly show Yeon-hong’s seemingly near-perfect family life and her absolutely loving relationships with those closest to her as well as her warm friendships with a wider circle, including the people in her husband’s employ. However, we are soon to discover that Yeon-hong seemingly takes virtually everything she's told at face value and has repeatedly, blindly, ignored numerous flags that would have revealed familial cracks, if she’d taken the time to look just a little deeper. It’s only when she starts to investigate Min-jin’s disappearance that these flags finally begin to register with her – her husband refusing to explain where he was and who he was with on a specific night; Min-jin saying she was going to study with her friend Jae-hye, with Yeon-hong simply accepting her claim as fact without checking the phone number Min-jin gave was correct or even asking who Jae-hye actually is; Yeon-hong being completely unaware that her daughter is being bullied and ostracised at school; etc.
The more Yeon-hong delves and the more people she talks to about Min-jin, the more she is lied to by all and sundry and as the truth slowly begins to be revealed the more she has to face the fact that she actually knows next to nothing about her husband, her daughter or her friends, the very people she centres her life on. As such, aside from the situation relating to Min-jin, Yeon-hong has to deal with her (perceived) life being stripped away piece by piece. As she desperately tries to keep from falling apart altogether, her move towards thoughts of retribution are almost inevitable, both for Min-jin on a conscience level and subconsciously for herself and the beautiful life that has been taken from her.

While Yeon-hong certainly isn’t to blame for what has happened to her daughter, ‘The Truth Beneath’ does, to my mind, ask whether the situation would have happened at all if Yeon-hong hadn’t been so (blissfully) blinkered for so long. The film’s ultimate statement on this idea comes in its very final moment as a perfectly thought-provoking coda, ensuring this unfortunate woman’s story will stay with viewers long after the credits roll.




The pacing of ‘The Truth Beneath’ correlates perfectly with Yeon-hong’s increasing frustration and desperation, the first ramp up in speed coming as she takes part in a frenetic shamanistic ritual, as has been the case in a number of other of this year’s films. Throughout, the narrative seamlessly moves between past and present as the story unfolds with each time frame easily understood within overall proceedings.
Director Lee Kyoung-mi uses quite a few editing ‘tricks’, as it were, to move between scenes and/or time periods. Some of these are utterly superlative  - Min-jin walking along a road in daylight while a car appears to be driving down a curved hill behind her, the scene morphing into night and showing the car to in reality be Yeon-hong’s, as searches for her daughter days later, for example – but even those that are somewhat more obvious (such as a split-screen visual montage accompanied by music showing the passing of time as  Yeon-hong searches through Min-jin’s emails) serve their purpose well enough and director Lee Kyoung-mi certainly can’t be criticised for attempting to add some visual flair, especially in her sophomore feature.

It could be said that the numerous, often tiny plot elements adding up to the truth of what happened to Min-jin in the second half of the film feel a little cluttered at times, but they ultimately add to the unpredictability of the tale – making the narrative stronger as a whole – and as such I’m almost happy to let that slide.






Those who have seen virtually any of actress Son Ye-jin’s early work almost cannot fail to have become long-term fans. From Lovers’ Concerto to The Classic, to A Moment to Remember, to April Snow, Son Ye-jin totally owned every single film in which she starred, each and every scene in which she appeared, such was her insane talent for producing utterly believable, absolutely heart-wrenching emotions in front of the camera, seemingly spontaneously.
In more recent years as Son Ye-jin has become one of the biggest female names in the Korean film industry, she has of course starred in an increasing number of big budget blockbusters such as The Tower and The Pirates. It almost goes without saying that huge films such as these, while largely entertaining, by their very nature place far more emphasis on spectacle and action than narrative nuance or character depth. As such, there is often little for actors and actresses (including Son Ye-jin) to sink their teeth into, as it were, to show what they are truly capable of, leaving us with performances that are 'decent enough', at best.
‘The Truth Beneath’ completely redresses the balance - Son Ye-jin’s performance easily and by far being her best since White Night in 2009, her talent positively screaming out of a myriad of emotions from love to confusion, to despair, to disgust, to hatred, to vengeful determination and beyond. ‘The Truth Beneath’ is Son Ye-jin’s film from start to finish, her phenomenal, award winning performance lifting the film from entertainingly absorbing to utterly enthralling.

 


Summary:

Initially appearing to be a tale of politics and family, ‘The Truth Beneath’ ultimately shows itself to be a far more personal and poignant story of one woman’s efforts to uncover the truth of what happened to her daughter, and her discovery in the process of the lies and betrayal that permeate her entire life.

 

THE TRUTH BENEATH (비밀은없다) / 2016 / Directed by Lee Kyoung-mi

 




All images © CJ Entertainment
Review © Paul Quinn



 

Cart (카트 / 2014)

CART (카트 / 2014 / Directed by Boo Ji-Young) will be screened on 13 Nov at the 2016 London Korean Film Festival.
Tickets for the screening can be booked at: http://koreanfilm.co.uk/site/the-2016-festival/the-2016-programme/special-focus-the-lives-of-korean-women-through-the-eyes-of-women-directors/cart

The following is the Hangul Celluloid review of the film:  





"The customer is king!... Work for customer satisfaction!...
When the customer prospers, the company prospers!... We love customers!..."


Synopsis:

Seon-hee (Yeom Jeong-ah) is one of a number of female workers employed under a temporary contract by retail outlet Mart. The diligence with which she undertakes her work and her willingness to put the needs of the company above her own - agreeing to almost endless, often unpaid overtime, in the process - combined with her obvious and seemingly unshakeable belief in the company's values and its 'the customer is king' mantra has resulted in her being told that she, in the near future, will be made a permanent member of staff complete with the extra job security such a position brings.
However, Seon-hee's (understandable) feeling that her relationship with her employers is both honest and open is not just called into question by the sudden announcement - given via a noticeboard list - that many of her colleagues are to have their temporary contracts terminated but is, in fact, torn utterly asunder by the realisation that Seon-hee herself is one of those who will lose their jobs. Scared for their futures but determined to voice their grievances officially and draw attention to their rights as employees, the women hurriedly form a workers' union but when Mart's management fail to even turn up to a negotiation meeting Seon-hee and her colleagues are left with little option but to take a stand by going on strike.
The problem is, as they begin their industrial action, these ultimately innocent ladies have no idea how protracted and difficult their situation will soon become, nor are they aware of the sheer brutality with which their calls for justice will be met...


Review:

Any discussion of Korean cinema depictions of workers’ rights (or the lack thereof), employee mistreatment and struggles for justice through unionisation can be virtually guaranteed to include mention of Park Kwang-su seminal 1995 film 'A Single Spark', based on the life of Jeon Tae-il - a young man whose calls for compliance with labour laws culminated in him committing suicide by self-immolation in 1970; posthumously becoming a symbol for Korea's entire labour movement.
While it would be difficult - some might say nigh on impossible - for any subsequent film on a similar subject to come even close to A Single Spark's importance, with 'Cart' (based on a true-life incident that occurred in 2007) director Boo Ji-young deftly shows that corporate bullying and even violence was still taking place against workers almost 40 years after Jeon Tae-il's death.

The early stages of 'Cart' juxtapose Seon-hee's family life - the daily trials and tribulations of a mother taking care of her two children - with the sometimes difficult relationships between the other female workers at Mart and the faceless (from the female employees' perspective, at least), unceasing demands of company bureaucrats dictated through lower level intermediaries, and instantly we are shown that the caring and emotionality (ie humanity) so important to Seon-hee (and, by implication, the same for the other temporary workers) in her private life sadly has no place whatsoever in her job.




Those who are aware of Asian companies' practice of gathering employees together daily, prior to the start of business, to rev them up for the day's work by collectively repeating a proactive mantra, so to speak, will find Seon-hee and her colleagues' chanting of 'The customer is king... Work for customer satisfaction...' familiar territory in one respect but the adding in of the exalting of Seon-hee by her superior as the unquestionably perfect employee, in front of the entire workforce - her every action to be aspired to and indeed emulated - appears (in my opinion, deliberately so) as all too similar to a totalitarian regime indoctrinating, even brainwashing, the masses to its own ends.
Not only that, but the aforementioned 'customer is king' mantra instantly screams of what would likely (and indeed does) happen when a customer complaint is aimed directly at one of the temporary workers, underlining from almost the outset just how unimportant these female workers, their rights and even their lives are deemed to be by their employers.

Of course, any such story will always become a battle between humanity/moral right and cold, uncaring bureaucracy but Boo Ji-young also uses the fact that these increasingly badly treated workers are women to subtly make a statement on issues faced by women in Korean society as a result of male prejudices:
As the women stage a sit-in of their workplace they begin to increasingly bond with each other - their emotional connection and the importance of those they are involved with and responsible for sitting at the forefront of their minds while their situation threatens their livelihoods and therefore those very parts of their lives - while the repeated attitude of the company's (male) management is, and I quote: "They're only women, they don't matter".
In fact, the subsequent violence inflicted on them (again, instigated by the male company bosses) could even be said to raise the question of whether these cold, profits-driven men consider the women as human at all and if that is, again, because they are female.






Seon-hee's difficult relationship with her young son and, in turn, his burgeoning relationship with a feisty young girl form the main subplots of 'Cart' and just as the main narrative ultimately shows growing strength, self esteem and self worth in the face of seemingly insurmountable adversity these subplots, too, ultimately speak clearly of how much Seon-hee grows as an individual as a result of her colleagues' belief in her and in spite of the male bosses' preconceptions of, and lack of respect for, women.

As already mentioned, 'Cart’ is based on a true story and, as such, as well as all of the above allowing the film to serve as both a human and humane tale of female empowerment, it also stands as a reminder of shocking workplace injustices in spite of labour laws; injustices that in the 21st century should be no more than footnotes in history.

 


Summary:

While it would be difficult - some might say nigh on impossible - for any film on the subject of workers' rights and labour laws to come even close to the importance of 1995's 'A Single Spark', with 'Cart' (based on a true-life incident that occurred in 2007) Boo Ji-young nonetheless successfully combines an insightful story of workplace injustices with a tale of female empowerment that is both human and humane.

 

'Cart' (카트) / 2014 / Directed by Boo Ji-Young

 




All images © Myung Films, Little Big Pictures
Review © Paul Quinn


 

Save the Green Planet (지구를 지켜라 / 2003)

SAVE THE GREEN PLANET (지구를 지켜라 / 2003 / Directed by Jang Jun-Hwan) will be screened on 13 Nov at the 2016 London Korean Film Festival.
Tickets for the screening can be booked at: http://koreanfilm.co.uk/site/the-2016-festival/the-2016-programme/actor-focus/save-the-green-planet

The following is the Hangul Celluloid review of the film:

 

Save The Green Planet headline image


Byeong-gu has killed a lot of people, but he'd never consider himself to be a serial killer. You see, he believes he's discovered (from watching 1950's sci-fi "B" movies and reading conspiracy theory books) that aliens live among us, masquerading as human beings, and that these extra-terrestrial life forms are the main reason behind society’s many problems as well as the misfortune in his personal life. Byeong-gu (who is on medication) also believes that the alien Prince of Andromeda is coming to destroy the Earth at the next lunar eclipse and, being the only one aware of the problem that humanity is facing, has taken it upon himself to stop the aliens and save mankind by speaking with the alien prince before the lunar eclipse occurs. Byeong-gu has previously kidnapped several individuals whom he believed were aliens but, as none would confess to their alien origin or tell him the whereabouts of the prince, he (obviously) had to kill them. Another problem for Byeong-gu is the fact that since the aliens look just like human beings finding them is quite a task. The latest alien suspect, as we join the film, is Kang Man-Shik, the president and CEO of a big chemical company. With the help of his beloved, and slightly slow, circus performer/tight-rope walking girlfriend, Su-ni, he plans to kidnap the businessman, torture him until he confesses that he is an alien and force him to arrange a meeting with the prince.




Review:

Save The Green Planet is utterly bonkers. It's incredibly funny, viciously brutal, genuinely moving and completely nuts. Byeong-gu never considers the idea that his "discoveries" about an alien plot to destroy the world might simply be the workings of the mind of a man who should take up residence in a large padded room - he "knows" it's up to him, and him alone, to save this little green planet. Byeong-gu hasn't had an easy life (& he's sure that those pesky aliens are to blame for that too) - a bee-keeper by trade, he was beaten in school, showed signs of early violence (such as stabbing a fellow school mate with a kitchen knife) and was victim to the sadistic whims of his cruel teachers. His father was a coal miner who lost one of his arms due to dangerous work practices and was subsequently killed by his wife when he attempted to attack her and Byeong-gu. His mother was poisoned by Kang Man-Shik's company in a pharmaceuticals test (which Byeong-gu believes was alien experimentation), and is still in a coma in hospital, and his former girlfriend was beaten to death by corporate gangsters during a worker's strike. All the constant violence that has engulfed Byeong-gu's life has had an effect on his mental well-being and the fact that so much of that violence has been linked to large corporations (namely Kang Man-Shik's) makes it blatantly clear to him that Kang is an alien and a high-powered one at that. By kidnapping and torturing him Byeong-gu will not only facilitate a meeting with the alien Prince of Andromeda to save mankind but will also be able to force Kang to provide an antidote to cure his mother and all the while he'll be making the culpable pay for the pain he has had to endure.





Ok, Ok, I know what you're thinking… Byeong-gu's life story doesn't seem to be a likely subject for a comedy but that's where you would be wrong and right, all at the same time. From the moment he and Su-ni strap on their alien-immunity hard hats, with the little motorized rotating antennae attached, you'll find yourself willingly immersed in a mad-cap and extremely deranged world. I have talked a lot in reviews of South Korean films about the country's filmmakers' unrivalled ability to mix genres and film types and that ability is used perfectly throughout Save The Green Planet to mould viewers' emotions and allegiances. The lead up to Kang's torture is so truly funny (with more than one reference to Scorcese's "King Of Comedy") that even as Kang's torture begins viewers are still firmly on Byeong-gu's side. However as the overall genre seamlessly morphs into a brutality akin to a Park Chan-wook epic we, as an audience, are caught off guard by the seriousness of the acts that Byeong-gu is committing and begin to feel sorry for the poor businessman, only to find our emotional attachments being turned upside down yet again by the revelation that Su-ni discovers regarding her relationship with Byeong-gu and also by the discovery of the contents of Byeong-gu's journal.
While Save the Green Planet presents itself on the surface as a comedy/horror film about aliens it is in fact a multi-themed, multi-layered work and as such the comedy tag almost does the film an injustice. The idea that a person's actions can have much farther reaching consequences than that person could ever know is shown through Byeong-gu's perceptions of himself, of others and of his place in the world all having been coloured by the actions of others, and these in turn affect the people he subsequently interacts with. For every physical torture that Kang has to face at the hands of Byeong-gu other characters (most notably Su-ni) have to face tortures of a different kind. Byeong-gu may feel that his obsessed actions come as a reaction to the facts as he sees them but regardless of whether or not his beliefs are true the result is the same - his actions not only hurt his victims but also those around him and ultimately himself.
As if that wasn't enough, the film also alludes to working conditions in South Korea at the time. The reference to Byeong-gu’s previous girlfriend’s murder by corporate gangsters and Kang’s company being responsible for his mother’s illness are at the same time vital plot points and statements on the activities of corrupt corporate heads and their firm grip on labour unions in the country during the period.

Let's not forget, however, that Save The Green Planet is a comedy (sorry for any injustice caused by that statement) and an accomplished one at that. Parodies range from genre (for example the classic idea of a serial killer movie where a disgraced policeman, opposed to both the killer and the authorities, is the only one who can put the clues together) to specific film homages including "Bladerunner", "The Usual Suspects" and Kubrick's "2001". The dialogue is witty and intelligent and care is taken to ensure empathy between viewers and the characters. And the plot? No matter how bonkers it may sound (and is) you'll find yourself questioning whether Byeong-gu is really crazy after all.

 


Note: The images directly above are taken from the "2001" homage piece in "Save The Green Planet" and have not been posted here simply as gratuitous female nudity.


Cast and Crew:

It is hard to believe that Save The Green Planet is Jang Jun-hwan's directorial debut. He has a keen eye for shots with detailed nuances and, obviously being a fan of classic sci-fi, is able to effectively reference specific looks from the subjects of his homages/parodies on a limited budget. He uses colour to provoke emotional feel repeatedly and his approach to this is very reminiscent of Kim Jee-woon's use of the flower motif in A Tale Of Two Sisters. The limit of the budget is only shown to have been an issue during the last few scenes of the film where the use of cgi is clearly noticeable, but by that point viewers will have had such an enjoyable experience watching the movie that they'll happily let that fly without too much criticism.
The entire cast provide stellar performances especially Shin Ha-kyun (who previously starred in JSA and Sympathy For Mr Vengeance) as Byeong-gu. His ability to show total belief and conviction at the same time as utter ridiculousness is a sight to behold. It is claimed that he signed onto the project on the strength of the script alone which is easy to believe considering how him throws himself into the character wholeheartedly. Baek Yun-shik as Kang Man-shik gives a suitably irate business-like performance and Hwang Jeong-min gives a genuine warmth and lovelorn innocence to the character of Su-ni.



Directed By: Jang Jun-hwan

Cast (Actor ... Character)

Shin Ha-kyun ... Lee Byeong-gu
Baek Yun-shik ... Kang Man-shik
Hwang Jeong-min ... Su-ni
Lee Jae-yong ... Inspector Choo
Lee Ju-hyeon ... Inspector Kim
Gi Ju-bong ... Squad Leader Lee


 

DVD

The DVD reviewed is the region 2 Tartan Video release, provided as a two disc special edition. Colours are clear and rich and the film print is exceptionally clean. There is minor ghosting present on a couple of the darker scenes but the picture quality is, in general, crisp. Sound is well spread across channels and is uniform throughout.


Format: PAL, Widescreen
Main Language: Korean
Available Audio Tracks: DTS 5.1 Surround, Dolby Digital 5.1 Surround, Dolby Digital 2.0 Stereo
Subtitles: English
Disc Format: DVD 9
Region: All Regions
Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1
Number of discs: 2
Classification: 18
Studio: Tartan Video
Run Time: 113 minutes

DVD Features:

Deleted Scenes
Director Commentary
Cast And Crew Interviews
Behind The Scenes
Jamie Russell Film Notes




All images © Tartan Video
Review © P. Quinn






The Taste of Money (돈의 맛 / 2012)

THE TASTE OF MONEY (돈의 맛 / 2012 / Directed by Im Sang-soo) will be screened on 6 Nov at the 2016 London Korean Film Festival, followed by a Q&A with actor Baek Yoon-sik.
Tickets for the screening and Q&A can be booked at: http://koreanfilm.co.uk/site/the-2016-festival/the-2016-programme/actor-focus/the-taste-of-money

The following is the Hangul Celluloid review of the film:  

 


Synopsis:

The Taste of Money details the ongoing tale of an insanely rich Korean family - an extension (of sorts) of the story told in The Housemaid (2010) - The Taste of Money’s narrative focusing on company president Yoon (Baek Yoon-sik), his wife Geum-ok (Yoon Yeo-jeong), their daughter Nami (Kim Hyo-jin) and son Chul (On Joo-wan).
While Yoon may be company head in name, the true business and family power are held by Geum-ok and her aged father (Kwon Byung-gil); with Yoon having simply married into the family for money and influence rather than love.
As we join the story, Young-jak (Kim Kang-woo) has been employed as Yoon’s private secretary, initially fully prepared to do whatever is asked of him while at the same time waiting to seize on any opportunity to improve his situation and lot, and he is soon instructed to provide for the needs of a US businessman, Robert Altman (Darcy Paquet), as part of a major business deal that could prove crucial to the family's fortunes.
However, as Robert indulges himself in numerous sexual liaisons with prostitutes, Geum-ok discovers that Yoon has been having an affair with the family’s maid, Eva (Maui Taylor), and decides to force youthful Young-jak into her bed as part of her twisted revenge before embarking on a quest to find a way to make Yoon and Eva pay once and for all.  
As the family members increasingly turn on each other, Young-jak, in desperation, seeks help from Nami and the question quickly becomes whether they or anyone will escape unscathed, or in fact at all...



Review:

From the very outset, let me just say that I'm a huge fan of director Im Sang-soo's work and directorial style; a disclaimer of sorts, if you like, even though by stating it I've likely left many of you in little doubt as to where this review is headed. Throughout his career, Im Sang-soo has deftly and expertly created cinematic works with intricately woven narratives; layering each with socio-political commentary and regularly using graphic adult content to critique social norms, attitudes and even society itself. Involved and often deliberately uncomfortable, Im Sang-soo's films can almost always be guaranteed to be every bit as gripping as they are multi-faceted... Almost always...

Im Sang-soo's film prior to The Taste of Money was, of course, his re-imagining of Kim Ki-young's 1960 masterpiece The Housemaid - Im Sang-soo's 2010 version being a sexually charged thriller dissecting the balance (or, more accurately, the imbalance) of power between the "haves and have nots" in Korean society - and with The Taste of Money his intention was to extend these themes yet further by detailing the power struggles within Yoon's wealthy family; once again showing proceedings largely from the perspective of a character who could be described as a somewhat lower class outsider, but this time centring on a combination of the ideas of "money is the root of all evil" and "money can't buy me love".





From the first scene to the very last, The Taste of Money positively screams that it is an Im Sang-soo film - from overall directorial style to camera framing; to narrative arcs; to sets; to character situations and involved dialogue; to even the musical score - to such an extent that even audience members who have seen only The Housemaid (and none of his other previous work) will easily recognise the director's hand at work. However, the fact that The Taste of Money was envisioned as an extension of the themes detailed in The Housemaid causes, almost by its very nature, one of the biggest problems with the film: It looks like The Housemaid, it feels like The Housemaid (in one scene, characters even watch The Housemaid, 2010, in a private cinema; in another, a character is beaten up/tortured with Kim Ki-young's 1960 film playing on a screen behind them) and its ultimate destination is even deeply reminiscent of... you guessed it... The Housemaid; to the point of the throwing of a (rather contrived) surreal moment into the final scene, much like... I just can't bring myself to say it again, but you know the film I mean.
However, while the above is (mostly) warranted in any continuation of previously dissected ideas, The Taste of Money doesn't have anywhere close to a gripping enough narrative for its intention to be successfully achieved and, sadly, what we're left with is a film that feels like little more than a lacklustre remake of a far superior work; albeit with an older cast and somewhat altered narrative.
For me personally, any cinematic work is only ever as worthy as the viewer empathy it elicits and Im Sang-soo's decision to focus The Taste of Money on characters for whom, over time, a love of money (and the resultant power it allows them) has replaced virtually any and every heartfelt emotion simply makes that empathy even harder to come by, regardless of how interesting the narrative may appear as a concept.







Even the characters of Yoon and Young-jak, whose journeys and plights we are invited and called upon to invest in for a large portion of the running time fail to stir the heart to any degree: Yoon, who decides that love is more important than cash, being rather too accepting of what befalls him and his lover Eva, and essentially giving up without a fight as soon as the hammer begins to fall; and Young-jak appearing as almost as much of an opportunistic voyeur as he does a moral outsider with supposed depth - his battle to remain emotionally connected while the lure of money and power pulls him towards becoming as bereft of feelings as those who surround him ultimately being a fight we watch without ever truly engaging.
As I mentioned earlier (and as many of you will have already have been aware), Im Sang-soo regularly uses sexual content to underline often controversial narrative themes but here The Taste of Money is rather a victim of its own success: With the majority of the (many) sexual liaisons being filmed from a distance, again deliberately adding an air of implied voyeurism to proceedings, The Taste of Money accents and underlines the fact that for most of the characters sex is a meaningless physical pleasure - as much about power as need or intimacy and deemed almost as a right by anyone in their self-involved position - and by doing so resolutely ensures that any possible eroticism is instantly lost. While it's obvious that that was Im Sang-soo's intention, meaningless sex is, well, meaningless and for the most part sadly dull.
That said, there is, however, one sexual encounter in The Taste of Money that deftly serves its purpose; the encounter between two characters of vastly differing ages that is every bit as uncomfortable and difficult to watch as it could, and should, be.

Finally (and I honestly wouldn't blame you for wondering if this review is ever going to end), Im Sang-soo also references matriarchal elements within an overarching patriarchy in the balance of power between the family members but the effect of all the aforementioned issues detracts from even this.
So, what statement does The Taste of Money make at the end of the day? That this is the way of the world for people such as these and those becoming involved must either embrace it or get as far away as possible.
I, for one, chose the latter.

 


Summary:

Ultimately, while The Taste of Money's narrative is without question an interesting concept in its extension of a previously dissected subject, by the very nature of the characters portrayed it was always going to risk falling flat emotionally. And fall flat The Taste of Money does.

Cast:

The entire cast of The Taste of Money give perfectly acceptable performances throughout but it is Yoon Yeo-jeong's portrayal of the matriarchal Geum-ok that stands head and shoulders (and more) above the rest. Her innate ability to deftly and believably play this type of role makes it easy to see why Im Sang-soo chose to cast her in both The Housemaid and The Taste of Money, in different roles.
Korean film fans should also be aware of the casting of Korean film reviewer and critic Darcy Paquet as the character of American businessman Robert Altman.

Main Cast: Baek Yoon-sik, Yoon Yeo-jeong, Kim Hyo-jin, On Joo-wan


DVD:

The DVD edition reviewed here is the Korean (Region 3) KD Media 2-Disc Limited Edition First Press edition. The film itself is provided as an anamorphic transfer with an aspect ratio of 2.35:1 and there are no image artefacts (and no ghosting) present. The picture is absolutely exemplary and compliments the beautifully rich visuals perfectly.
The original Korean language soundtrack is provided as Dolby Digital 5.1 and is easily equal to the superb image quality present. The musical score is also well balanced and noticeably nuanced throughout.
Excellent subtitles are provided throughout the main feature but English-speaking viewers should note that, as with many Korean DVD releases, there are no subtitles available on any of the extras.


The Taste of Money (DVD) (2-Disc) (First Press Limited Edition) (Korea Version)

Director:             Im Sang-soo

Language:           Korean

Subtitles:            English, Korean

Picture Format:   NTSC

Disc Format(s):   DVD (2-Disc)

Region Code:       3

Rating:                III

Publisher:            KD Media


DVD Extras:

- ‘Desire’ Featurette (25 mins)

- ‘Temptation, Lust and Shame’ Featurette (10 mins)

- ‘Riches’ - Production Notes Featurette (5 mins)

- ‘Taboo’ Featurette (5 mins)

- ‘Revelations’ Featurette (6 mins)

- Trailer






All images © KD Media
Review © Paul Quinn


 

Helpless (화차 / 2012)

HELPLESS (화차 / 2012 / Directed by Byeon Yeong-joo) will be screened on 12 Nov at the 2016 London Korean Film Festival.

Tickets for the screening can be booked at: http://koreanfilm.co.uk/site/the-2016-festival/the-2016-programme/special-focus-the-lives-of-korean-women-through-the-eyes-of-women-directors/helpless

The following is the Hangul Celluloid review of the film: 

 



Synopsis:

Moon-ho (Lee Seon-gyun) and Seon-yeong (Kim Min-hee) appear to be the perfect couple and are planning to get married in a month's time. Journeying to Andong to visit Moon-ho's parents, they stop at a roadside service station, in the midst of a torrential downpour of rain, with Moon-ho heading inside to buy Seon-yeong a takeaway coffee while she waits in the car.
On his return, Moon-ho is dismayed to discover that Seon-yeong is nowhere to be seen - having disappeared without even taking her umbrella, leaving the car door wide open - and though he searches high and low he can find no trace of his fiancé save for her hairclip, which he discovers on the floor of the ladies' restroom.
With the police subsequently being no help whatsoever, Moon-ho enlists the help of ex-cop Jong-geun (Jo Seong-ha) to track down his wife-to-be, but as they delve into Seon-yeong's past for clues to where she may have gone, or to what may have befallen her, they begin to uncover a web of lies and deceit, and Moon-ho must soon face the realisation that he knows nothing about the woman with whom he was intending to share his life, least of all her real name... 




Review:

Immediately following his fiancé's disappearance, Moon-ho is understandably convinced that something untoward has happened to her (by his reckoning, quite possibly against her will) but his unflinching trust in her; his assumption that love and honesty go hand in hand; and his utter belief that he knows her inside out, if you will, add up to make it all the more difficult for him to accept that everything she told him about herself was an out-and-out lie. On several occasions, Moon-ho vehemently protests that Seon-yeong "wouldn't do that" even though it's increasingly obvious that she did and his claim that others "don't know her" - a desperate attempt to convince himself as much as anyone else - is repeatedly met with the simple retort "do you?"
As such, Helpless underlines its narrative by asking if we can ever be sure that we truly know those around us (even those we are closest to) and raises the question of whether love and/or friendship can lead us to be altogether too trusting and ready to accept what we're told at face value, without question - all with a hefty dose of social critique and commentary added to the mix, for good measure.

 



Helpless (which is based on the novel 'Kasha' by Japanese crime-thriller writer Miyabe Miyuki) gradually morphs from Moon-ho's frantic search for his fiancé to his increasingly desperate efforts to find out who this woman actually was, with the 'why' quickly becoming as important as the wherefore, and as Seon-yeong's lies begin to be successively revealed, her position as the villain of the piece appears resolutely set.
However, in a film as intelligently layered as Helpless, things are never simply black or white:
With the circumstances that pushed her to each of her questionable decisions expanded in flashback, viewers will find it almost impossible not to feel for her desperate plight, regardless of her callousness and her ignoring of the concepts of right and wrong, and though there can obviously never be justification for her utterly self-serving choices and increasingly vicious actions, the implication is nonetheless given that she is ultimately as helpless as anyone else.




Cinematically, Helpless is utterly superb: Pacing is faultless throughout, matching the thrilling narrative perfectly - both present-day and flashback sequences building in speed and climaxing in parallel as the true state of play is gradually revealed.
Imagery and visuals are equally accomplished with subtle shifts in the colour schemes of scenes serving to accentuate their overall feel - warm, sumptuous pastel colours used in flashback segments showing Moon-ho and Seon-yeong in love, increasingly darkening and turning almost primary in hue as the characters' lives become bleaker.
Nuanced direction and camera work add further to this, the closeness of filming and framing initially feeling intimate but becoming uncomfortable to the point of claustrophobia as the film progresses towards its frenetic conclusion.




Cast:

In the early stages of Helpless, the majority of emotional content is provided by the character of Moon-ho, Lee Seon-gyun's portrayal being every bit as nuanced and accomplished as is to be expected from an actor of his calibre.
However, as Seon-yeong's increasingly twisted story gradually unfolds, Kim Min-hee is given the difficult task of eliciting viewer empathy for her character, in spite of the selfish and violent depths to which she stoops. Kim Min-hee not only steps up to the mark but exceeds it to the nth degree and, frankly, her portrayal of this desperate woman left with nowhere to turn is ultimately astonishing, easily giving Lee Seon-gyun a run for his money.
The rest of the cast play largely supporting roles but each performs admirably.


Cast:

Park Hae-il, Kim Moo-yeol, Kim Go-eun

 


Summary:

A deftly layered mystery thriller with depth, Helpless initially appears as the story of one man's desperate search for his missing fiancé, gradually morphing to detail the myriad of lies his wife-to-be has told, with the "why" being every bit as important as the wherefore.



DVD

The DVD edition reviewed here is the Korean (Region 3) CJ E&M (single disc) First Press edition. The film itself is provided as an anamorphic transfer with an aspect ratio of 1.85:1 and there are no image artifacts (and no ghosting) present. The picture is absolutely exemplary and compliments the visuals perfectly.
The original Korean language soundtrack is provided as Dolby Digital 5.1 and both it and the musical score are well balanced and noticeably nuanced throughout.
Excellent subtitles are provided throughout the main feature but English-speaking viewers should note that, as with many Korean DVD releases, there are no subtitles available on any of the extras.


DVD Details:

• Director: Byeon Yeong-joo
• Format: NTSC, Anamorphic, Widescreen, Subtitled
• Language: Korean
• Subtitles: English/Korean
• Sound: Dolby Digital 5.1
• Region: Region 3
• Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1
• Number of discs: 1
• Classification: 15 (Korean Film Classification)
• Studio: CJ E&M
• Run Time: 117 minutes (approx.)


DVD Extras:

• Audio commentary with director and crew
• Audio commentary with durector and cast
• 'Making of' Featurette - Woman in Boundary
• 'Making of' Featurette - Briefing
• Music Video
• 3D/2D Animation
• TV Spots


Finally, the official 'Helpless' trailer (with English subtitles) from CJ EntertainmentUSA is attached below:

 




 




All images © Lotte Entertainment and KD Media
Review © Paul Quinn





 

Paju (파주 / 2009)

PAJU (파주 / 2009 / Directed by Park Chan-ok) will be screened on 7 Nov at the 2016 London Korean Film Festival.

Tickets for the screening can be booked at: http://koreanfilm.co.uk/site/the-2016-festival/the-2016-programme/special-focus-the-lives-of-korean-women-through-the-eyes-of-women-directors/paju

The following is the Hangul Celluloid review of the film:




"Where is the person now?... The person who killed my sister."

Synopsis:

Eun-mo (Seo Woo) returns to the town of Paju, following a number of years spent in India subsequent to the death of her sister Eun-soo (Shim Yi-young), and is re-acquainted with her brother-in-law, Joong-shik (Lee Sun-kyun), who is now part of a task force attempting to prevent the authorities from demolishing the homes of the local community, to make way for new developments.
As Eun-mo attempts to settle back into life in her hometown, questions regarding the cause of her sister’s death begin to rise to the surface and, suspecting that Joong-shik may have been somehow involved (and with a growing need to know the truth), she sets out to uncover the facts, once and for all. However, Eun-mo’s increasingly conflicted emotions serve to cloud matters still further, and ultimately threaten to cause even greater pain to both her and Joong-shik…




Review:

Paju serves to both tell Eun-mo's story and show how Joong-shik is (and has been) affected by each of the women in his life over the years:
When we are first introduced to Joong-shik, he is on the run from police (for an unstated, though obviously politically motivated, crime) and living with his, already married, lover and her young child, but even at this early stage it is clear that his desire to help those around him (whether from a sense of duty, a feeling of indebtedness, or as a result of guilt) repeatedly conflicts with his own needs, and though his resultant actions regularly cause as much pain to himself, and those around him, as they do help the relevant situation, it's pretty obvious that in order to change the way he lives his life (and the resultant choices he makes), he would actually have to significantly alter who he is as a person - and that's never going to happen.


 

His vagueness regarding the circumstances surrounding the death of Eun-mo's sister, combined with his insistence she died in a car accident (when all the investigative evidence states that she was killed in a gas explosion) cannot fail to immediately set alarm bells ringing in Eun-mo's mind and, knowing that the full story is being deliberately withheld from her, she really can't be blamed for becoming suspicious and making assumptions based on the limited information available to her. However, as she endeavors to ascertain what really happened to her sister, we are shown, in no uncertain terms, that, far from being bliss, ignorance brings with it pain that is as equally difficult to deal with as that caused by having full knowledge of a heartbreaking situation.
As Joong-shik and Eun-mo desperately struggle to keep themselves from psychologically falling apart, the surrounding community is also shown to be on the brink of collapse, and Paju uses this sub-plot to make some serious statements regarding the position of downtrodden people within the ever-onward marching regeneration and development of the country. The repeated reiteration of the idea that changes and decisions made "for the greater good" (both by those in authority and by gangsters masquerading as state-endorsed businessmen) are going to happen regardless of their affects on Paju's inhabitants, and the question of whether the pain of fighting an increasingly futile battle is actually greater than the pain of accepting a (largely unacceptable) situation is also shown to echo - admittedly to a lesser degree - in the decisions which both Joong-shik and Eun-mo make with regard to each other, and though neither are (fully) consciously aware that their actions are equally as self-motivated (if not even more so) as they are altruistic, it is nonetheless painfully evident from even the most cursory view.

 


Paju takes place over four main time periods (eight, seven and three years in the past, and the present - the plot often jumping back and forth between each), and though this non-linear method of storytelling may initially cause some confusion (much like the fog which, both physically and mentally, surrounds Eun-mo at the beginning of the film) as the plot unfolds we begin to put the pieces of the puzzle together in a similar fashion to that of Eun-mo herself, and, like her, we feel the metaphorical fog gradually dissipate. However, how clear Eun-mo's subsequent view actually is, is repeatedly called into question, and ultimately becomes pivotal to the conclusion of the story.
A great deal more is implied than is outwardly stated in Paju, meaning that viewers are required to pay attention throughout, and, in fact, the culmination of events (and the resultant ramifications) is incredibly subtle - to the extent that its importance may initially be overlooked - but that in itself, combined with all the aforementioned comments, results in a film which is even more powerful on subsequent viewings.



Direction:

Cinematically, Paju verges on being an arthouse production, but is, thankfully, devoid of any associated pretentions, and scenes reminiscent of many found in standard Korean melodramas are boosted greatly, and given a much larger feeling of importance, by brooding imagery (often without dialogue) accompanied by a beautifully sparse and melancholy score.
The colour schemes used throughout the film repeatedly contrast the drab, bleak surroundings of the town's community with the bright, vibrant technicolour vistas of new developments and further point to the increasing gulf between Paju's disadvantaged inhabitants and those in authority.


 

Cast:

The entire cast of Paju give superlative performances but it is the portrayals provided by Seo Woo (as Eun-mo) and Lee Sun-kyun (as Joong-shik) which are easily the most noteworthy. Both bring a vulnerability to their respective characters, further adding an extra depth to these already complex and emotionally conflicted individuals. Seo Woo is a relative newcomer to acting, but her performance in Paju cannot fail to result in eager anticipation being created for her future roles.


Summary:

A melancholy, yet darkly beautiful, film, Paju asks whether ignorance really is bliss, or if it simply brings a different set of heartaches to those brought by knowledge. A film which not only needs to be seen, but deserves to be seen more than once.



Cast (Actor... Character):

Seo Woo... Eun-mo

Lee Sun-kyun... Joong-shik

Shim Yi-young... Eun-soo

 


DVD

The DVD edition reviewed here is the Korean (Region 3) Eos Entertainment First Pressing (Limited Edition) SE 2-Disc release, which comes in matt-finished deluxe packaging with embossed gloss segments. The film itself is provided as an anamorphic transfer with an aspect ratio of 1.85:1 (even though the outside information states that it is 2.35:1) and there are no image artifacts (and no ghosting) present. Colours are vibrant, especially when contrasted with the deliberately drab greyness of the scenes involving Paju's disadvantaged community members.
The original Korean language soundtrack is provided as a choice of Dolby Digital 5.1 and Dolby Digital 2.0 and is well balanced throughout.
Excellent subtitles are provided throughout the main feature but English-speaking viewers should note that, as with many Korean DVD releases, there are no subtitles available on any of the extras.

DVD Details:

       • Director: Park Chan-ok
       • Format: NTSC, Anamorphic, Widescreen, Subtitled
       • Language: Korean
       • Subtitles: English/Korean
       • Sound: Dolby
Digital 5.1, Dolby Digital 2.0
       • Region: Region 3
       • Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1
       • Number of discs: 2
       • Classification: Category III (Korean Film Classification)
       • Studio: Eos Entertainment



DVD Extras:

  • Making Film (featurette)
  • Cast and Crew Interviews
  • Music video
  • Interview with director Park Chan-ok
  • Poster Making (featurette)
  • Stills Gallery
  • Theatrical Trailer




All images © Myung Films, Warner Bros. Pictures, Korean Film Council, TPS Company and Eos Entertainment
Review © Paul Quinn