Change Your Image
markbeardslee
Reviews
Star Trek: Voyager: Tuvix (1996)
Why Trek is Stellar
This is a tale about a transporter incident in which the disparate bodies and minds of opposing characters Tuvok and Neelix are fused together into a third man whose name, and identity, becomes known as Tuvix.
The fact that the result is truly a third man is the precise moral dilemma that this episode tackles. Should this third man supplant both Neelix and Tuvok? Or should he be removed in order to bring those men back to their own beings? These are tough questions and are typical of the moral dilemmas that the "Star Trek" franchise has always taken on for analysis.
Writers Andrew Shepard Smith and Mark Greenberg create an episode deserving of an award with this "Star Trek: Voyager" morality play which examines some of the deepest and darkest elements of individuality, coexistence and morality. Not just the writers deserve credit for this excellent episode. The fabulous makeup department at Paramount creates an impressive physical juxtaposition of the characters Tuvok and Neelix. Further, veteran actor Tom Wright, with considerable assistance from director Cliff Bole and teleplay writer Kenneth Biller, takes viewers deeper into the characters of Neelix and Tuvok than either Tim Russ as Tuvok or Nathan Phillips as Neelix had yet been able to do. Tuvix becomes a popular man aboard Voyager, with his most memorable quote coming as he is besieged in the mess hall and asked on what authority he orders them all out: "As Chief of Security or as Head Chef, take your pick! Out, out!" Wright's interpretation of the material results in an absolutely stunning character, a true "fusion" of Neelix and Tuvok, and his aggressiveness in the role demonstrates not only his versatility as an actor, but an apparent deep understanding of "Star Trek" ideals.
The ugly underside of this episode is its exploration of the death penalty. Tuvix exists for weeks as B'Ellanna and Kim and the rest of the engineers attempt to find a way to bring back Tuvok and Neelix separately. In the process, Tuvix ingratiates himself to many of the crew, including Neelix's squeeze, Kes. But the separate persons, Tuvok and Neelix, are not forgotten, and it is discovered that the only way for those men to be returned to Voyager is to essentially "execute" Tuvix. The unique "Star Trek: Voyager" mix of ingenious writers (both Greenberg and Smith are winners of daytime Emmy awards for their work on "Jeopardy!"), producers (multiple award-winning "Star Trek" alumni Brannon Braga, Merri D. Howard and Peter Lauritson), director (Cliff Bole) and extraordinary actors all end up examining not just the morality of capital punishment, but its definition. Is Tuvix, as an individual, in being fully halved so as to revive the two individuals, Tuvok and Neelix, an innocent victim of the crew's desire for its familiar colleagues, or is the elimination of Tuvix worth those colleagues' return? Is it an execution? Does Janeway commit capital punishment? If so, why? Why aren't other solutions sought? Why isn't it simply accepted that Tuvok and Neelix are dead, but that they live, and quite illustriously so, within Tuvix? Tough questions, these. And the "Star Trek" franchise is famous for taking them on.
The lovely and the ghastly: these are the domains of Gene Roddenberry's "Star Trek." Experience one of its finest incarnations in "Star Trek: Voyager," and keep an eye out for one particularly provocative episode called "Tuvix."
Gwoemul (2006)
Host This!
It is crisp, hip and contemporary.
The family owners of a riverside snack shop in Seoul, Korea become terrorized by an unnatural beast which arises from the Han River, courtesy of pollution by the US Army. How can this NOT be a box office smash?
South Korea's biggest box office hit ever, "The Host," is truly an unexpected achievement and, in the right hands, a clever, fun, gory and grisly good time. Director Bong Joon Ho pulls off a cinematic coup in this 2006 release. Fans of horror and humor films alike should find this thoroughly post-post-modern take on "the monster movie" a surprising delight.
Here's the plot, in a nutshell: American military occupiers, portrayed as evil, uncaring madmen and as incoherent idiot simpletons, unleash a horror by ordering tons of toxic chemicals to be dumped into the Han River, South Korea's main inland waterway, which just happens to run through the capital city of Seoul, population 13 million. For this American, it is fun to see fellow Americans stereotyped as such. This film's producer, Choi Yong Bae, does not flinch at turning the tables on a Hollywood that has characterized Asians and other minorities as villains or buffoons since movies began.
Further, "The Host" offers up a version of a "good" American, the alien hero who dies in the initial confrontation with the monster but whose death reveals that the monster itself is the least of problems. The monster is a "host," we learn from America's Centers for Disease Control, because it contains a pernicious virus that will kill anyone with whom its bodily fluids make contact! Thank you, heroic foreigner, and goodbye! Where have we seen that before?
That newcomer South Korean filmmaker Bong can deftly offer such a departure from such early Korean monster film tragedies as "Wangmagwi" (1967), and suddenly splash this montage onto the silver screen, is a testament to the true sophistication of South Korean film today. It cannot be ignored. "The Host" is a sophisticated, scary, fun and gory monster movie which can hold its own among the likes of the "Men in Black," "Jurassic Park" and "Alien" (to which this monster has an eerie resemblance) film franchises.
Of course, the film has its problems. What of the killer virus that the monster unleashes? How does the monster-killing "Agent Yellow" spare the film's stars while torturing the beast? Why doesn't the monster simply devour the young victims it abducts even as it searches for food among adult humans? But these are questions that can be asked of almost any "horror" film, particularly those involving giant monsters. The Japanese "Godzilla" franchise holds its share of nonsensical plot meanderings, but it remains beloved. "The Host," too, deserves to be forgiven such nit-picked non sequiturs.
This film boasts no brilliant acting performances, nor does its cinematography leave viewers gasping. What it does offer is impressive special effects, lots of sarcastic, underhanded commentary on the state of political affairs between South Korea and the United States, and plenty of terrifying, suspenseful and astonishingly stomach-churning sequences. The acting team turns in acceptable work for a monster film, with the emergent South Korean star Song Kang Ho ("Swiri", "Joint Security Area," "Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance") standing out in an unorthodox lead performance.
In some areas of the United States, Korean films are the rage. I can only suppose it is because of films like this, which transcend genre, offer familiar spectacles in unfamiliar domains and poke harmless fun at ourselves. Hats off to "The Host."
Nabbeun namja (2001)
Not Kim's finest, but...
In Seoul, and in every other major South Korean city, there are red light districts. Few local folks will admit to their existence. But Kim Ki Duk does. And he does even more. He shows us how they work, how innocent young women get trapped by the "business," how a sense of helplessness descends upon the prostitutes, and how painfully unwelcome and irrelevant their boyfriends, their husbands, their families, become.
To make a film with these themes central may not seem like a winning decision. However, this is award-winning director Kim's territory, and he does with the subject matter what he will. No, it's not pretty, so don't expect it to be. No, it doesn't end up with everything working out happily, because life rarely does, so don't expect that either. No, there is no fine, pat conclusion, because Kim knows better.
I noticed that this film contains bits of celluloid that was picked up off the cutting room floor after Kim's renowned "3-Iron" was made. Expect some unexpected scenes in this regard. Unfortunately, the film is ugly from the beginning, with an innocent young woman (the magnificent actress and Kim favorite Seo Won), taken into prostitution against her will through unlikely circumstance. She is not a willing prostitute and she rebels throughout the plot, much to her dismay. But Kim is so adept at this. Ugliness becomes beautiful, noise turns to stillness, the guilty transform to innocence and the truly innocent remain so. I gasp at such awesome presentation. From Kim, we expect this. Still, he can overdo it. Why, I ask, does Kim always place a woman in mortal peril? Is this a must for his stories, his fables? If so, what is he trying to teach us? Certainly, I hope, more than the fact that "sexploitation" exists in his home country.
"Bad Guy" is a beautiful movie, but I only grant it 7 of 10 because Kim has apparently become obsessed with sexual violence (reference "The Isle," "Coast Guard" and "Address Unknown"). Also, there is just too much emphasis placed on predictable fight scenes. Sure, such scenes can serve a purpose, but by 2002, Kim should know he doesn't need to resort to the horrific presentations he makes them. I appreciate what he is trying to accomplish: a counterpoint to his truly beautiful scenes. But do we really need to be hit over the head with sexual brutality again and again? Perhaps his own culture does and, like what Mean Streets and Taxi Driver offered America in the 70's, Kim is trying to do something similar for South Korean society in the 2000 oughts. We can but hope.
Kim takes risks in showing the world the dark underbelly of contemporary Korean culture. He is to be commended for that. But he is capable of presenting so much more, and that is precisely what this film lacks. Kim needs to stop using shock as his stock in trade, and return to his more sublime talents, such as presenting unlikely heroes and heroines. Most of his viewers are, I am sure, quite over blatant scenes of sex and violence. "We get it, Mr. Kim, thank you, offer us something more. We know you can. Make those scenes MEAN something. That is what made you attractive in the first place; do not forget it."
Quickly, as an aside, if anyone supposes, simply because of the similarity of titles, that "Bad Guy" is similar to "Old Boy" by Park Chan Wook, forget it. These two films are nothing alike, except that they are both good.
This film is just good (not great) and should be received by Kim Ki Duk fans with mixed reactions.
Seom (2000)
What was Kim thinking?
Is this the same Kim Ki Duk who directed the poignant, life-spanning testimonial of "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring"? The same Kim Ki Duk who directed the exquisite, nearly silent, heartbreaking longing of "3 Iron"? The same Kim Ki Duk who dazzled us with the staggering tragedy of "The Coast Guard" and made us squirm about the ugliness of nonchalant teenage prostitution before returning to his almost patented nature motif to allow us all (characters and viewers alike) to experience redemption in "Samaritan Girl"? I just cannot seem to find him in this film.
Oh, sure, Kim's nature motif is still present. The film takes place entirely on a lake surrounded by mountains and on fishing floats resting placidly on the surface of calm waters. Yes, it's Kim Ki Duk, all right. Kim even describes the film as "beautiful" in an interview included in the DVD's special features. But I'm not sure anymore what that means after viewing this putrescent presentation.
What is beautiful about angry, potty-mouthed prostitutes, lustful, violent and potty-mouthed fishermen, a covetous mute merchant, explicit animal torture, sequences of self-mutilation and a pace that swings nauseatingly between bestial carnality and mindless brutality? These are the only elements of humanity that present themselves in this utterly confounding and ultimately pointless film. If it is based on a fable or intended as a parable or is meant to be symbolic of something greater, this reviewer is unfamiliar with the source material. It has been favorably compared to "Audition" by Japanese director Takashi Miike (much to Kim's satisfaction), but aside from some astonishingly good performances, especially given what they had to work with, by lead actors Seo Jung and Kim Yoo Suk, I find little reason to recommend this film. I have not seen "Audition," but I doubt it would alter in any way my view of "The Isle." Its violence is pornographic and senselessly sadistic. Its sex is not pornographic, but passionless and masochistic. Characters behave on irritating impulse because there is no plot. Its point is either non-existent or, I will admit, lost amidst Korean cultural quirks that I fail to understand.
The only beauty is in the cinematography, which is classic Kim: fog-shrouded boats lapping slowly across a serene lake, mountainous terrain dominating the background, and an imaginative and playful use of color. At times it seems as if viewers are locked in a big Kim Ki Duk romper room. Some touches, like the mysterious and seductive mute merchant played by Jung and the pleasantly odd use of motorbikes, are intriguing. But as a film, this effort is downright confusing and, in the end, offensive to the senses, not necessarily to sensibilities. One hopes that Kim will leave this kind of film-making in the trash heap of his past, for we know he is capable of so much more.
Hae anseon (2002)
Not your father's Coast Guard
Writer and director Kim (3 Iron and Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring) broaches new territory in this tight, riveting drama about the ugly underbelly of a society in perpetual preparation for war. Kim admirers may miss the understated beauty and gentleness of Kim's previous work in this gritty, realistic rendering of modern Korea's army, complete with fierce beatings, "accidental" shootings and the inculcation of warrior bloodlust in its fresh, young recruits. In a rare introduction, Kim explains that he made the film as a statement against war and to help viewers realize that a nation always on a war footing can never be a happy one.
Astute viewers will not miss the parallels with films about America's Vietnam experience, such as Born on the Fourth of July, Casualties of War and, perhaps most apt, Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket. Kim's message is clear: the nature of Korea's mandatory conscripted military is a destructive social element that should be altered.
While Kim revolves his story around a private in a platoon based on the seashore who is obsessed with finding and shooting a North Korean spy, his artist's vision and broad understanding of contemporary social issues leads us into adjacent themes, including the effect of the military on civilians, his culture's strict adherence to obedience to elders and the ultimate madness that the brutal disciplinary conditions engender in young Korean men. Private Kang is the story's simultaneous protagonist and antagonist as he takes his duties to extremes, always wearing camouflage paint, ambushing fellow enlistees and terrorizing area fishermen. One night, he sees images of people in restricted space through his night vision goggles and opens fire, killing a local man while he is making drunken love to his girlfriend Mi-young (portrayed in startling fashion by Park Ji-a). Despite the circumstances, his superiors reward Kang for following standing orders by firing on intruders in the restricted zone, and he is granted a leave of absence to visit his family in Seoul.
And this is just the beginning of the story. Kang becomes increasingly unstable, the local civilians increasingly vengeful, and his peers and superiors increasingly confused about how to handle Kang. Eventually, he is discharged from the service but faces shame and dishonor both at home and within the military, from which he cannot bring himself to break away. In this regard, The Coast Guard examines military recruits as trained killing machines and begs the question of what they are to do when they are no longer asked to kill. Again, American audiences will find chilly reminders of Vietnam-era soldiers who were ostracized by the very people they vowed to protect. As Kang's delusions progress, Mi-young descends toward her own doom in an Ophelian self-destructive and insanity-soaked orgy of despair and depravity.
No happy endings here, folks. This is Kim at the edge of his expertise. He has played the madness card before, with sex and violence in passionate personal dramas. But to directly characterize his country's military status quo as culturally destructive is a first. Kim deftly avoids political pronouncements, yet the message of this disturbing film resonates long and loud beyond the final scene.
Chihwaseon (2002)
More brilliance
It is not surprising that this film was made by I'm Kwon Taek at the time it was. He examined the early beauty and tragedy of Chosun Dynasty life in Seopyonje and delightfully explored a well-known Korean folk tale in Chunhyang, and these comprised his last two films. What is most surprising is that Chi Hwa Seon, his 2002 offering, is not presented in the pansori style of those previous two films.
Nonetheless, the experienced hand of I'm comes through. We explore together the life of a real person: a late nineteenth century Chosun Dynasty painter who rides on the edge of modernity but who is not a noble and who, because of that, causes a stir in contemporary Korean society with his fame and his public and artistic expressions of disdain for the old Korean noble class and his contempt for would-be Japanese ruling colonials alike. The painter, Chang Seung Up, known popularly as Oh Won (performed magnificently by Choi Min Sik, the famous star of Park Chan Wook's already legendary "OldBoy") becomes more and more influential and therefore more dangerous throughout the film. Contemporary Korean audiences will back a hero like this despite the fact, or maybe because of the fact, that he was so ostracized in his time. I'm's sense of simultaneous beauty and tragedy in history remains intact. I'm is a master at capturing his country's past idiosyncrasies, and in this film he almost outdoes himself. As expected in an I'm film, the cinematography is breathtaking, the editing is precise and the story is central.
Plots are set against Seung Up, family ties are tested and broken, scandalous behavior is alleged (and is sometimes real), all to bring down the man who "painted fire." But against all the intricacies of I'm's detailed but sometimes convoluted account of Seung Up's life, Seung Up himself somehow manages to survive. He becomes legendary because of his ability to perfectly copy famous Chinese paintings after only one look. Art dealers and agents then besiege him and try to make money off "Oh Won." In other words, lines of people, who wish to take advantage of the real Seung Up, an artistic star, begin to form. But he refuses to be manipulated. His cleverness in staving off both the massive hordes and the imperial lackeys impresses the audience, if not the cast.
What does Seung Up think? He possesses powerful emotions and opinions about painting, such as the aesthetic belief that paintings are living things and are never truly finished. He despises those who would try to turn art into profit. And he cares not for politicians who use their might to bring artistic beauty around them and then cast off the artist as traitorous. But he also thinks that painting plays a role in the coming upheavals. Horrid scenes involving foreign invaders from France and Japan are presented. I'm's signature historical epic motif, and his influence in the realm, remains on prominent display in this multi-million dollar epic.
The protagonist causes greater grief for himself and those who care for him when he refuses to paint. This is when the story takes on a whole new meaning, one that is not just political, but social in nature. I'm takes on the issues in laudable realist fashion.
He, Oh Won, becomes a Jesus figure. The people believe him capable of artistic miracles and the government feels it needs his artistic support, but the protagonist remains fiercely independent and contemptuous of what others want him to do or be. Eventually, both government and people come down upon Seung Up in a manner taken straight out of the Bible. His holiness becomes human; his humanity is not accepted; he dies for (or escapes from) the sins of the commoners, the art critics, the politicians, who hound him.
But does he die? As with most of I'm's films, a question remains. In this case, does Seung Up really become an immortal hermit? The film does not tackle that question; it merely presents a possible end for the real man of Chang Seung Up, or Oh Won. No death is depicted because no death is known.
It is difficult to find fault with this film, but I'm has become so good at presenting various historical absurdities in his culture that when he does, it hardly surprises anymore. As usual for I'm's films, the cinematography, the editing and the writing are all first rate. It's a well-crafted film imbued with I'm's uncanny story-telling ability. Granted, he may be best at doing this through the ancient Korean musical art of pansori. Still, the film contains stretches of this admirable art form, and by the end, viewers feel as if they have become privy to a great, untold story. And they have, because that, precisely, is I'm's gift.
Bedazzled (2000)
Brendan Fraser is a god and a monster
Brendan Fraser never ceases to amaze me with the work he is capable of doing. How many languages does he speak? First he does the goofy stuff, straight out of Jerry Lewis, and then he plays the straight sideman like Dean Martin, and finally becomes the superhero in "The Mummy." No demands on his acting performance, whether as the confused but morally centered King George in "George of the Jungle" or the confused but morally centered Adam from "Blast from the Past" to his Oscar-worthy performance as the confused but morally centered Clayton in "Gods and Monsters," seem to out-demand his capabilities.
Fraser is one of the most underrated actors in Hollywood today.
Confused but morally centered may have been his shtick in several of his most popular films, but he is not typecast. Witness "The Mummy" movies, or his amazing work in "The Quiet American" and "Crash." This is a studious actor, who engages deeply in his homework and strives never to leave a scene flat. I would guess he would be the kind of actor a director would love, for his knowledge, his dedication and his willingness to push boundaries.
All that said, this particular movie is rather lame and it is really only Fraser's genius that saves it. Proving capable of playing a cavalcade of characters, from a rich Latino heartthrob to a convincing geek and everything in between, Fraser saves this movie from the trash heap. Sure, Elizabeth Hurley provides eye candy and she delivers her cleverly written lines with ease, and she's even a little bit funny from time to time. But it is Fraser who remains funny, or troubled, or terrified, or bold, or whatever the situation demands he be, with a surprising sense of alacrity.
Sure, this review is mostly about Fraser, but that's just the point. As with most every other film starring this chameleonic actor, Fraser somehow manages to come to the fore. He even gave the amazing Michael Caine a run for his money in his understated role as "The Quiet American." If you're looking for a gag film, like "Blast from the Past," spend 90 minutes with "Bedazzled." But pay close attention and you'll see much more than well-delivered gags; you will see a true cinematic artist at work.
Lord of War (2005)
Genius, pure genius
Orlov (Cage) starts this film with an apology, saying that he is who he is, and that he expects no one will think he is not one of the ugliest, dirtiest, most murderous men in the world, because what he is, he confesses, is an illegal arms dealer. With that necessity out of the way, Orlov says he intends to simply tell his story, no matter how much it may offend folks. He just wants to tell the truth about what he did. The film's producers claim that it is based on actual events.
And offend the story does! No political correctness crossed this film's sound stage and survived. Cage's narrative does not simply verge on the obscene, it becomes so in a beautifully written examination of and a near justification for the existence of the private arms dealer. Consider, the film asks us, that the greatest arms traders in the world are the US, the UK, France, China and Russia, and that all five of these countries are the only permanent members of the UN Security Council. That fact itself is enough to help viewers begin to see why middlemen, like Cage's character Orlov, not only survive, but thrive in this war-ridden world.
In a terribly ugly movie, writer and director Andrew Niccol is able to present comedic and sexual scenes that can make a viewer feel sick for realizing he's laughing. Such sharp ability on Niccol's part is what prevents an otherwise shamefully violent gross-out movie from becoming both a compelling piece of self-examination and a powerful expose of the world's true "foreign affairs." Cage continually plays you and me, people who would work for profit if it were to be made and damn the consequences. While doing so, he admits that he is one of the most powerful men in the world, not because he has the guns, but because it is human nature to kill each other. "That's why all the earliest skeletons of humans have arrowheads in them," Cage's commentator dryly offers early on. And the rest of the film painfully and arduously proves that this nihilistic view is quite accurate.
Through the expansive use of information gleaned from the minutiae of Cold War spy games to the outright abandon of any sort of law of the seas or of borders when the Cold War finally ends, Niccol guides us on a tour of Cage's Ukrainian character Orlov as he buys abandoned arms from rarefied areas and sells them to high bidders throughout the Third World, always competing with the dangerous dealers who came before. Niccol also allows us into Orlov's personal life, his marriage to the love of his juvenile dreams, and to the extent he will go to maintain his deception. His wife, the premier occidental Ava Fontaine, brilliantly played by Bridget Moynahan, accepts Orlov's fallacy and ignores his work, just as he asks her. Orlov himself seems often to ignore his own work as well. Pursued intermittently by Jack Valentine, a painfully honest INTERPOL agent played with newfound boldness by Ethan Hawke, and toyed with by Simon Weisz, a character portrayed by Ian Holm with that actor's usual deftness, Orlov becomes THE private gunrunner in the world. He can be tracked, caught, arrested, but he will always be released because he knows of and does those things with which the highest ranking members of the militaries of the world would rather their names not be associated.
The grist of this film comes in a variety of fashions. First, we appreciate the mock-comical approach of the narrative that offers profound but accurate aphorisms as we watch Third World children murder and be murdered. Second, we relate to Orlov, because he is really only doing what many of us would reasonably do in his shoes: recognize the horrors around him but hold himself blameless because there is always someone else who would gladly take over the dirty work. Third, Orlov is a real person, dealing with family conflicts and the demands of keeping certain matters secret from his wife and child even while he bestows his love upon them. Finally, Niccol populates the film with colorful, if not downright pernicious, characters who work as Orlov's clients. This technique lends a great amount of credibility to Orlov's refrain of personal innocence. The self-appointed president of Liberia would obtain his arms from whomever, Orlov has us believe. As we watch, it is easy to believe this to such an extent that we become willing to exonerate Orlov for his crimes.
The film's only weak points are when Orlov is betrayed by his wife and by his crack-head brother. The scenes are not believable, but their inclusion is understood as explanations for Valentine's ultimate arrest of Orlov. Still, we are left wondering who will be punished, Orlov, his wife or his brother.
"Lord of War" is not pretty by any means. Avoid it if you have qualms about children dying, about instant murder, or about what may really be happening behind the headlines of events in the Third World. But if you want to catch a clever and insightful glimpse into the history and persistence of underground arms dealers and how they affect global politics, see this astonishingly good movie.
Must Love Dogs (2005)
A frightful box-office come-hither
The producers of this one had a great plan. How can you lose with a romantic comedy starring John Cusack and Diane Lane? Throw in great supporting actors like Christopher Plummer, Stockard Channing, Elizabeth Perkins and Dermot Mulroney and you have a big winner. Right? Wrong! The producers, the Todd sisters, who had some success with the "Austin Powers" franchise, and David Gary Goldberg, a relative newcomer, missed because they thought they could pull a fast one on audiences by presenting a "can't-lose" romantic comedy with wonderful actors but an empty script. They end up with a putrescent pile of pooh that could have been dropped by any of the film's pooches.
The fast pace of this film suggests that the producers were in a hurry to get it done. Maybe no one, including the truly talented actors, would notice. They end up with overly scripted performances on all fronts. The comedic moments are delivered gift-wrapped in such swift lines that they seem only to be missing the snare drum and the cymbal crash to let viewers know that they're supposed to laugh. The only funny thing is that there's nothing to laugh at, with all the intended humorous scenes and lines so overused, borrowed and cliché that they inspire irritated yawns. The "spontaneous" humor is so unrealistically contrived that it leaps off the screen, into your throat and right to the gag reflex.
The plot essentially involves two divorced people who are lonely and surrounded by supportive family and friends intent upon setting them up with the new "perfect match." Ho hum. And guess who the lonely characters are: Cusack and Lane. As if such beautiful people could ever be wanting for love. For once, I'd like a casting director with balls enough to cast truly unattractive people looking for somebody to love them, or even like them. These attractive people inspire no believability. At least in "Serendipity," neither the luscious Kate Beckinsale nor the eminently charming Cusack led hard up love lives. That movie succeeded only because the two beautiful leads were simply involved with the wrong partners.
In "Must Love Dogs," the focus is on the desperation of these characters who otherwise have no knowledge of desperation in the romance department. Stilted and predictable dialogue is delivered in such rapid-fire fashion that it feels as if we're watching the Partridge family. The lack of a laugh track makes it seem as if something essential is missing. Indeed, something IS missing: a joke, a script, a sense of timing, sympathetic characters, take your pick.
Hopefully, for the futures of Cusack, Lane and company, this horrific piece of drivel does not tarnish their otherwise distinguished careers.
If you choose to see this wretched film, consider yourself adequately forewarned.
Chunhyangdyun (2000)
Brilliant if you can stomach the pansori
If your idea of high filmed entertainment involves a spoiled governor's son from a patriarchal society getting everything he wants, bullying his faithful servant, marrying and then having awkward sex with a woman he encounters on a lark and a gruff male voice "singing" everything that takes place, from the servant's illicit play in the fields to the scenery that passes by the camera to even the imaginary dialogue taking place within characters' minds, this may just be the film for you. And should that terribly long-winded sentence put you off the movie, it shouldn't, for the story of Chunhyang is a treasured Korean folk tale, the narration is presented in the time-honored tradition of pansori, an ancient Korean rhythmic narrative singing style accompanied by percussion, and the director of this version of the story is none less than the esteemed I'm Kwon Taek, perhaps Korea's grandfather of cinema with 99 films to his credit.
Lee Mong Ryong (played by Cho Seung Woo) is the local governor's son and, during a visit to the countryside village of Namwon, he observes the playful Chunhyang (Lee Hyo Jeong) swinging from a distant tree. He uses his authority (and his manservant Pangja, played with astounding relish by Kim Hak Young) to visit, woo and marry the girl, a courtesan's daughter, all within a matter of hours, and without his own father's consent. All is idyllic for a while until the two lovers encounter the real rough and ready world of Chosun-era Korea. When the staccato wailing of the pansori narrator begins to intrude even upon the dialogue of the primary actors, it becomes hard to take, and non-Koreans are apt to turn away. It is only in the recognition of the centrality of pansori to this story that I was able to stomach it. I'd like to remove pansori from my cinematic lexicon. But the vocal elements of pansori are beautiful in their precision and purity, so when it is central to the telling of a historical tale, little 21st century me refuses to argue with such history. It would be like asking directors of Shakespearian plays to do away with iambic pentameter.
And so, Mong Ryong hides his marriage from his father, who is appointed a minister for the king in Seoul and must go there. But first, as he settles affairs in his district, he sends Mong Ryong, who leaves Namwon under melodramatic circumstances, Chunhyang screaming all the while, left behind to face the full brutality of the Chosun Dynasty. She is to become a mistress to the new governor of Namwon, but she resists him, suffering torture and painful public humiliation. Eventually, she is imprisoned and sentenced to die at the new governor's third anniversary of rule.
Meanwhile, Mong Ryong rides to Seoul where he studies for and takes the royal examination. Earning the highest score, he is appointed a provincial inspector, beholden to the king. In his duties, he comes across Pangja, who tells him of Chunhyang's plight. Using Pangja's information, Mong Ryong travels back to Namwon and, disguised as a beggar, infiltrates the governorship there to win back his beloved Chunhyang.
Doubtless, this film is hokey, as its roots are so terribly old, but that does not mean it lacks enjoyment. Character interactions, clever asides and unexpected dialogue mesh with the ubiquitous pansori chanting to create an undeniably Korean masterpiece. The acting is exquisite, with Kim Hak Young standing out, but with newcomers Cho Seung Woo and Lee Hyo Jeong, in the title role, performing beautifully as well.
From ancient times, the telling of this story has been incidental to the pansori musical presentation. Director I'm is fully cognizant of this fact and determines not to depart from tradition. Instead, he focuses on imagery, color, angles, even special effects and other cinematographic treats courtesy of veteran cinematographer Jung Il Sung, to bring this film to life even for those turned off by the pansori.
A typical Western audience would fail to understand, and perhaps even be irked by this unique presentation of a very old Korean folk tale. And while Koreans themselves may be unimpressed by the film by virtue of their sheer familiarity with the story, both non-Koreans and Koreans should allow themselves a couple hours to see I'm Kwon Taek's superb rendering of this timeless folk tale.
Note: I know the director's name is I'm, not I'm. The program just sticks the apostrophe in there. Please forgive.
Jigureul jikyeora! (2003)
A psychotic romp through cinema
The genre line of the IMDb description for "Save the Green Planet" says a lot, but not nearly all.
"Horror, comedy, drama, sci-fi," it reads. But no mention is made of parody, satire, absurdity, gore, farce, irony, social commentary, insanity, fantasy or, in the end, mystery. And it is this final element, the mystery, that keeps viewers watching this bizarre film to a predictably ambiguous conclusion. For, indeed, who IS going to save the earth?
Beekeeper, mannequin builder, erstwhile factory worker and all-round cuckoo Byeong-gu (Shin Ha Kyun) kidnaps Kang (Baek Yun Sik), CEO of a large chemical conglomerate, and accuses him of being a prince from the Andromeda galaxy who will unleash destruction upon Earth by the next lunar eclipse. Byeong-gu only seems to be interested in prodding Kang to admit to this extravagant plot; what to do to prevent humanity's destruction is ignored. The proud Kang (reminiscent of Gordon Gecko from "Wall Street") refuses to be broken by Byeong-gu's increasingly horrific torture tactics. When screwball Detective Chu (Lee Jae Yong) happens too close to Byeong-gu's lair, he winds up grotesquely murdered and fed to the dog, aptly named Earth. More traditional detectives unveil Byeong-gu's woeful past, a subplot that can make viewers feel momentary compassion for the insane Byeong-gu. All the while, however, Kang attempts escape after escape, enduring bloody consequences with superhuman endurance. Byeong-gu's accomplice, the unpleasantly plump Sunni (Hwang Jong Min), eventually departs in disgust, leaving Byeong-gu to delve deeper into his madness, trailing the audience behind him. Along this littered path, director Jung Jun Hwan lets us know what he has seen. Elements of films as divergent as "2001: A Space Odyssey" to "The Silence of the Lambs" appear, usually for mere seconds, but for profound seconds. Indeed, a film aficionado can enjoy this film just to see how many hidden tropes from cinema's past can be unearthed. I'll mention a few I found: "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon"; "The Matrix"; "The Shining"; "Bladerunner"; "12 Monkeys"; "Misery"; "The Day the Earth Stood Still"; "Terminator"; "Armageddon" and a delightful plot-twisting nod to "The Usual Suspects." Its "Wizard of Oz" score adds to the surreal concoction, as do numerous Hitchcock tricks and a suffocating retro techno resemblance to Terry Gilliam's "Brazil."
But for all this, Jung fails to create his own distinctive tale-telling style for this laudable film. Perhaps it is intentional. Perhaps Jung is that cynical postmodern artist proclaiming the inherent absurdity of all things, including everything in his work and the very skin, guts and bones of his work as well. If that was Jung's intent, then he succeeds marvelously. If not, then I'll just congratulate the stellar acting of the cast members who probably had no idea what they were in for when they signed on for this supremely clever, psychopathic, enigmatic, entertaining but ultimately confounding cinematic offering.
La marche de l'empereur (2005)
Miles to go
Not until the closing credits did I fully realize who the stars of "The March of the Penguins" are. National Geographic photographers have been a part of my entire life, as I have chosen to tune in to their fascinating true tales of nature just as my father did. To view wildlife close-up, especially from inconceivable angles, fascinated father and son. "How in hell did they get a camera located to take THAT shot?" I remember my father exclaiming. As I watched this movie, however, I was too absorbed in the story to ponder such feats. That is, until the closing credits showed the photographic team, bundled into anonymity, going about the work that would allow them to allow us to feel like we had been there, among the penguins.
Penguins are technically birds but essentially fish. Ironically, they don't fly and, at least during this film, they do little swimming. The "march" refers to the 70-mile trek, on talon, Emperor Penguins make annually upon maturity to reach their mating grounds. But as any parent knows, that is only the start of a great adventure. While the ladies head back for food, males stoically protect their eggs from unfathomable wintry conditions. Upon their return some 120 days later, well-fed mothers relieve the starving fathers, who yet wait for the eggs to hatch so as to establish a recognition code with their newborns. When the fathers eventually return with more food to regurgitate into the hungry mouths of growing offspring, the mothers have already taken their leaves. Their complex form of communication allows what appear to be thousands of clones to recognize each other.
"The March of the Penguins" accomplishes typical National Geographic magic, but the film does so in unusual style. Anchored by Morgan Freeman's preternatural gift for narration, we watch as "birds" dive 1700 feet into the icy waters off Antarctica to gather food, we cry as parents and chicks fail to survive the brutal conditions, we tremble as predators from the deep and from the sky take their toll, we laugh as marchers slip and fall on the ice, we sympathize as they squawk in apparent humiliation and we cheer when they climb back to their feet and clamber on. Freeman tells us that these magnificent creatures are not all that unlike humans, and we believe him, not only because of his undeniable voice, but because the photography depicts the enthusiasm of families being formed, suffering separations, mourning losses and exulting in reunions. Engrossed in such scenes, it is easy to forget that some truly devoted and persistent humans were necessary to bring these fascinating revelations to us.
On the down side, perhaps to retain a "G" rating, the film does not reveal actual scenes of mating. It instead turns penguin sex into anthropomorphized scenes of romance. The footage also fails to address hints of cannibalism among the penguins. Non-experts are left to guess whether flightless birds of the Antarctic sea would devour its own kind to survive on the icy land.
Nonetheless, "March" succeeds because of its remarkable demonstrations of similarities between humans and penguins. Our species is supposedly the only one which can adapt its environment in order to survive. That may be so, but this penguin species is the only one which has adapted itself to survive for countless generations in the least hospitable environment on Earth. Kudos to the extraordinary team of photographers who make viewers feel like participants in this fascinating march of penguins.
Swiri (1999)
Heartbreaking, not groundbreaking
I rented "Shiri" because I was intrigued by its premise. Based on its plot summary, I thought the pro-(an?)-tagonist would be a woman similar to the real North Korean spy who blew up a South Korean airliner in the 80s. She was captured and apparently kept alive in a secret location by the South Korean government as a source of valuable information on North Korea. Unfortunately, I was gravely mistaken.
Hyped as "groundbreaking," this film left me wondering, "What ground?" It is more like pavement-breaking, a noisy, unoriginal and tiresome process. Sure, it touches on areas that have been heretofore off-limits to Korean filmmakers (the nature of the contemporary North/South conflict), but it is shameful that this film, wildly popular in South Korea, happened to be the first to do so.
I don't find this film to be much more than the work of a Korean director trying to imitate Jerry Bruckheimer. The action scenes are well choreographed and extremely violent, and that works to a certain simple degree. But the important elements are lacking: the drama is suspect, the mystery all-too-obvious, the romantic scenes predictably contrived.
One excellent scene, however, occurs at the beginning when the "assassin-ess" is undergoing her training. One of her tasks is to shoot at a line of North Korean soldiers, who stand stoic and apparently unafraid, and miss them by firing between their heads. This is brilliantly original, enough to make the toughest among us wince. But, for the most part, this film makes us wince for other reasons.
"Have you ever seen starving parents eat the flesh of their own kids?" An admittedly powerful line, it also gruesomely and aptly sums up the film: lots of choice bits, but the whole thing is really a horrible mess. "Shiri" dissolves into an intentionally confusing, predictably violent conclusion. While there are indeed some intelligent observations made about the nature of North/South Korean relations, nothing particularly meaningful, inventive or revolutionary is offered. It's the same old line that the South seeks unification by peaceful means and the North seeks it through violence. Ho hum. As I said, Jerry Bruckheimer.
"Shiri" is marketed as a sexy film although there is no sex or sexiness in it. It is hailed as groundbreaking but I fail to see any ground being broken. This weak combination of spy/action/adventure/drama/romance is overly hyped, its promoters know that they are disingenuous in recommending this film, its payoff is nonexistent and, if this is any indication of what the Korean film "renaissance" is all about, I want no part of it.
As Asian films, Korean ones among them, become more and more popular, I hope that they will become more and more good. Sadly, "Shiri" does not live up to that hope despite much hype, many enthusiastic reviews and, granted, quality cinematography. The story, the plot and the final screenplay all just fall terribly flat. I must give this movie a big thumbs down.
Oldeuboi (2003)
Lost in Translation or See it Again?
"Old Boy" is a damned tough movie to review. Its strengths and its weaknesses seem to become apparent only upon reflection. The disjointed plot is distracting and can lead viewers to lose interest in precisely what is going on. But pay close attention to this one; the pay-off is worth it.
The film's greatest weakness involves poor pacing, slowing to the point of boredom at times before throwing mountains of information at the viewer in a few seconds. But Park Chan Wook is a masterful director on the cutting edge of the new wave of Asian film-making with many important titles to his credit. So perhaps this "weakness" is intentional.
"Old Boy" employs extraordinary cinematography, one of Park's trademarks. When dialogue and plot drag, unique camera angles and unusual presentation keep one's attention. The film starts with great promise. The protagonist, Oh Dae Su, is well-defined and supremely well portrayed by Choi Min Sik. As a viewer, I was compelled to want to go along with Oh Dae Su on his bizarre journey. Its bits of satirical humor generate particular enjoyment. The early escape scenes are superbly presented; I cried out in delight.
Sadly, after the escape, the movie begins to lag. While I was expecting more in the area of Oh Dae Su's revenge (characters utter his name as if it's a horrible invocation), the story instead dives deeply into an uncertain psychological exploration that eventually loses me.
I guess I could say that I just didn't get it and I'm an idiot. But the film IS sophisticated enough to be difficult to tackle. It is quite slick, its performances excellent, its presentation powerful. I just wish I could have followed the complexity of the story as it gained momentum and that the film would not have fallen into near sleep mode at too many important junctures.
In all, the film is a special treat despite its drawbacks. I would venture to say that Korean cinema, and Park in particular, has reached a point similar to that of 20th century Scandinavian, Polish and French cinema in its penchant for decidedly dark (film noir) approaches. "To hell with any concern that the audience might not be able to follow the story; just do the film." In this respect, "Old Boy" succeeds supremely, although I don't find it as subtly beautiful as, say, "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring." I suspect Park had that film in mind when he made this film. Similarities in style, such as vast understatement, abound.
"Old Boy" is original, daring, bizarre and purposefully entertaining. I believe only that the screenplay could have been improved; I will also concede that some vital components may have been "lost in translation."
Taegukgi hwinalrimyeo (2004)
It's not a forgotten war in Korea
This epic film about the Korean civil war of 1950-1953, despite some typical historical inaccuracies, is such a powerful portrayal of Korea's greatest modern tragedy that I feel almost unqualified to review it. Yet I shall try.
The protagonists in the film are characters named Lee Jin Tae and Lee Jin Seok, brothers who are recruited into the South Korean army in 1950 just after North Korea invades the south.
The film opens in modern day Korea, with a team of archaeologists digging up remains of troops killed in that horrible war from half a century earlier. Jin Seok is still alive as an old man, and he hopes for news that his brother's remains have been identified, so that he can properly mourn the loss of his brother. Yet there remains the possibility that his brother still lives, that he either defected to or was captured by the North Koreans and became inculcated into the odd sort of "communist" society that was created by that regime. Throughout the bulk of the movie, a two-hour flashback which highlights the horrors of various Korean war battles, Jin Tae and Jin Seok try to remain together and hopeful in the face of desperation, starvation, destruction and maddening violence. As the elder brother, Jin Tae is determined to earn a medal, whether or not it kills him, so that Jin Seok can go home. The preservation of the life of at least one son for every family is a central theme, not unlike that which centered "Saving Private Ryan."
This film, this "Tae Guk Gi" (translated as "Brotherhood of War") goes where no American film has yet dared, into the trenches and hills and valleys of a terribly gruesome war which the US would rather forget. But the war is not forgotten among Koreans, as this film deftly demonstrates.
The cinematography, the editing and the direction of "Tae Guk Gi" are superb. Location settings enliven the visual quality of the film. The editing, particularly during the battle scenes, is ingenious. Horrid images of war violence run rampant. In many scenes, such stomach-turning events as a soldier's face being blown off are presented. But the editing only allows the viewer to see such horrific gore for a fraction of a second. As a viewer, one does not see the beheaded body falling to the ground. These scenes are presented this way to allow viewers to see how the soldiers must have seen them. A soldier who is fighting may see a comrade get shot in the face, but he is not likely to approach the scene of the crime to dwell on it. He is more likely to move on, with the terrible images of such brutality left lingering at the edges of his mind, for he has his own life to defend and his own duty to attend. Only in retrospect can a soldier's mind recall such horrific scenes, and they are probably as sketchy and brief, however unsettling, as this film portrays.
"Tae Guk Gi" roars with frighteningly graphic and gruesome images of war violence, including scenes of civilian slaughter. A bomb exploding from inside a booby-trapped dead body is one of the films most disturbing scenes. It is not for the squeamish. While the US lost about 50,000 troops in its so-called "Forgotten War," millions of Koreans were killed in their brutal civil war. This film allows no one to forget that. And if the American audience of "Saving Private Ryan" can discover a sense of understanding about the incredible events of D-Day and the subsequent battles for Europe, the Korean audience of "Tae Guk Gi" can gain a sense of understanding about the realities of the terrible conflict which ended up defining their last two generations.
The film bursts with so many shocking moments of dialogue that it is nearly impossible to try to present any of it. I'll refer only to the scene when a soldier jumps up and announces, "We're all alike! We're all alike!" in a recognition of the lack of difference in the way both North and South Korean armies were treating prisoners and civilians. But the resonating phrase holds more than that. It speaks directly to the hope, held yet today, that the people of both nations are, indeed, alike enough to create one nation after all.
As for plot, Jin Tae finally earns a medal for his bravery during the South Korean battles against the Chinese in what is now North Korea. However, the prevailing suspicion of communists in the midst leads to an extremely tragic scene for Jin Tae, whose betrothed dies in his arms amidst scenes of thousands of falsely accused communists being shot down like unwanted pets.
Eventually, Jin Tae becomes lost to his brother and to the army, and he is suspected of defecting to the communists, bringing Jin Seok himself under suspicion. I will not reveal the payoff, in which it is finally revealed to Jin Seok precisely what happened to Jin Tae.
Brutal, horrific and realistic, this film was masterly crafted by writer/director Kang Je Gyu. Kudos go out to director of photography Hong Gyung Pyo and editor Park Gok Ji, without whose talents this film could have turned out to be a disaster. But it would be a greater disaster for anyone interested in quality film-making, especially films about war, and especially films about this so-called forgotten war, not to pay attention to this riveting, gritty, heart and gut wrenching film, written from the Korean perspective, about that country's most horrible modern tragedy.
Chingoo (2001)
Sometimes this works
When director Kwak Kyung Taek works portions of this film as period pieces, the results are nothing short of spectacular beauty. Scenes depicting 1976 and 1981 alone are worth the price of this film.
Sadly, the broader story of friendship gone awry is bogged down by clichés and melodrama and stereotypical gangster character faux angst. The plot is incidental to the message that Kwak tries to convey with this film: pure and innocent youthful friendship can be undone by the broader, but ultimately less important, adult world concerns of lust, greed and power. Indeed, the plot has been so often done that there is no need to relate it in this review. Suffice it to say that two young friends become, as adults, underworld gangster rivals in Pusan, South Korea, with plenty of that old stand-by, bloodshed, thrown in.
The beauty of "Friend" starts when two friends, Joon Suk and Dong Su, along with two other friends who don't become gangsters, try to examine sex as kids. In an amusing scene, the group confuses the word "menstruation" with "vagina." This leads to some hilarity for viewers later as the sex-crazed kids go about typical early teenage shenanigans.
Similarly, much later in the film, a precious scene unfolds when one of the non-gangsters visits the lair of one of his gangster friends and, while engaging in friendly banter, asks him why he, as a gangster, speaks of philosophy when he is but a "hoodlum." The gangster's henchmen get itchy (a la "The Godfather") and the gangster, instead of killing or torturing his friend, humiliates his own henchmen for overreacting by placing them in compromising positions in a car trunk. "How dare you suspect my friend and guest," he spits at his erstwhile protectors.
Such portrayals of true friendship predominate until the last quarter of the film when the rivalry between the two former friends, the gangsters, erupts into stereotypical over-the-top violence reminiscent of DePalma and Pacino. And while these latter scenes are apparently meant to provide the purpose and meaning of "Friend," they come off as clichéd shoot-em-ups, filled with ho-hum dialogue and predictably "tense" scenes that come up disappointing.
Still, Kwak displays instances of brilliance, such as when he portrays the rebellious underworld of South Korea in 1981 under Chun Doo Hwan's military dictatorship. Women smoking cigarettes was taboo even when I visited the country more than a decade later. Kwak is able to depict subtle scenes of rebellion in a subtle manner, and these are the gems of the film that resonate: A stunning performance by a female rock band. A running away scene with Robert Palmer's "Bad Case of Loving You" blaring in the soundtrack. A "West Side Story" type brawl in a theater while a government propaganda newsreel runs in the background. Shades of "Quadrophenia" and "Romper Stomper" prevail throughout the early half of the film, and when they do, its scenes are effectively cut with enough humorous interludes that a viewer does not want the film to progress into the "epic saga" that it eventually tries, with limited success, to become.
Former friends Joon Suk and Dong Su become reluctant adversaries and Kwak attempts to use this setting as a vehicle for a commentary on friendship. It works if your idea of friendship is apologizing to your best friend as he dies at your hand, or if confessing to that murder to face a certain death penalty qualifies as redemption. After a lot of violence and prison-cell soul-searching, the film concludes with a sentimental look back at the halcyon days of the friendly boys' respective childhoods. In this reviewer's opinion, it doesn't work. What does work is Kwak's initial representation of the boys' coming of age. If he had stayed there, this film could have been a lovely revelry in the ridiculous and absurd world of happily ignorant boyhood.
Instead, Kwak tries for a home run when all the friends really need is a base hit.
Un long dimanche de fiançailles (2004)
What a joyful surprise!
This touching, tragic, terrifying film represents a bold cinematic vision and succeeds where most American and British films that reach for similar heights fail.
It's not fun. Nor is it happy. Nor humorous. Yet, somehow director Jean-Pierre Jeunet discovers glimpses of fun, happiness and humor amidst the agony of war, the pain of loss, the desperation of clinging to false hopes and the unique darkness of being condemned by one's own. Where else is a viewer going to see a grisly film, essentially about how French World War One soldiers who were accused (sometimes falsely) of self-mutilation to try to get sent home from the front but instead find themselves forced unarmed into the no-man's land between the French and German trenches as punishment, that still succeeds in making him laugh? Absurd but true. At times this film is reminiscent of Stanley Kubrick's 1957 "Paths of Glory" until the time frame changes and it presents a Forrest Gump-like innocence. Audrey Tautou ("Amelie") is perfect in the role of Mathilde, the fiancée who believes that her betrothed somehow survived his doom, but the direction is so precise, the cinematography so convincing, that Jeunet probably would have succeeded with any capable actress.
This long movie does not poke along like "The English Patient." Instead, it lunges from time frame to time frame, alternately a love story, a horrifying war picture, a very violent revenge caper, a reflection on "mental illness" and a farcical comedy with a compelling mystery thread that denies the viewer the luxury of turning away from the screen. Mathilde deceives characters in supremely clever fashion as she undertakes a dubious effort to find her man alive; it may take a while for the viewer to realize that he too is being manipulated. This is the kind of production that only a collection of the most adept directors, screenwriters, producers, film and sound editors, make-up and costume designers, special effects wizards and cinematographers can make work. One hardly realizes that 133 minutes have passed when the film reaches its tear-jerking conclusion.
Surprise! Jodie Foster enters the story to portray a painfully torn woman whose part in Tautou's grand ploy proves pivotal. She speaks French as if it were her native language. And from time to time we are treated to the methodically deadly antics of an assassin, a veritable Femme Nikita, who has vowed revenge on every French military officer responsible for her lover's death. These scenes are somewhat reminiscent of Quentin Tarantino, yet they linger only momentarily. Shock is not Jeunet's plan. Rather, frightening realism mixed with a subtly jovial underpinning mark this fascinating film.
No viewer is left untouched by the conclusion of this saga. Thankfully, Jeunet remains respectable by not settling for the sentimental, not allowing his viewers to breathe any long-awaited sigh of satisfaction that it all works out in the end, although, in a way, it does. Unexpectedly, the viewer finds himself weeping, whether at the startling starkness of the reality that Mathilde finally uncovers or at the intrinsic beauty of a unique and unexpectedly delightful film set in a ravaged Great War-era France, the viewer may not be able to tell. Maybe it's both.
Many more films like this need to be made.
Bin-jip (2004)
Fabulous soft touch
Kim Ki Duk's surreal film, "3 Iron," masterfully presents the world as we only think we know it. For the world is never static (is it?), and that is precisely what this extraordinary film forces its viewers to confront. "It's hard to tell whether the world we live in is reality or dream," reads the film's epigraph, and indeed, it is hard to tell much about the film just viewed. Yet we shall try.
Known for presenting reality in a twisted yet ironically accurate form (see "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring), director Kim reaches for, and grasps, heights yet unknown. Story aside, the most notable aspects of the film are so sublime that they cannot go unnoticed, itself an ironic observation. In the film, beauty is presented in such unlikely manifestations as a small pond of fish, a drawing on a palm, furious cleaning on a washboard. Its tragedy is presented in similarly unlikely fashion, with golf balls fired off by men wielding a 3 iron golf club creating the majority of the violence, suffering and death. This is all metaphorical, of course, but Kim presents such absurdity so convincingly and believably that even the most astute of viewers can come to believe in the literal truth of his eerie, ethereal "reality." As hard as it may be to believe, adversaries do go around pounding each other with golf balls slung from a 3 iron, and Kim, with seeming effortlessness, renders such nonsense plausible. A peculiar naturalness pervades these scenes and instead of being filled with disbelief, a viewer wonders at how painful it might actually feel to be struck by a golf ball just after it has been struck by a club in the hands of a knowledgeable player. These otherwise ludicrous scenes become believable in Kim's world.
This is not a slasher film with a villain emerging from the links; the golf club seems almost accidental in Kim's presentation. Rather, the plot is minimalist, so simple that it can fly over viewers' heads unnoticed. Being unnoticed is a major theme of this movie, as the protagonist seems to possess an uncanny ability to disappear, or at least become so flimsy that he seems not to exist, even as he dwells right there in front of our eyes, and in front of the eyes of his adversaries as well.
A benign squatter is our protagonist, Tae Suk, a guy who lives in temporarily abandoned homes, using doorknob menus as evidence of temporary residential abandonment and a locksmith's skill to get himself inside those domiciles. While living in such homes, he luxuriates, sure, but he also cleans laundry and repairs small appliances and electronic gadgets as apparent payment for his short stays. What he doesn't count on is entering an ostensibly empty home wherein hides a fearful and disfigured woman, the beautiful model wife of an abusive but oft absent husband. The two meet under incredibly bizarre circumstances, move beyond distrust to friendliness, befriend one another and eventually fall in love. And this is where Kim's magic works resplendently. The two never once speak to each other, at least on camera. Tae Suk, played memorably by Jae Hee, despite being caught by police, tortured and left to suffer the wrath of a vengeful husband, never utters a word. The female lead, played marvelously by Lee Seung Yeon, screams once and only once disingenuously tells her husband, "I love you." This is the entire extent of the lead players' dialogue. While the world screams at these two dreamlike creatures, they maintain their silence, their confidence and their self-assured sense of righteousness. Those who speak are corrupt. The silent ones are pure.
Stalking his adversaries like a whisper, like a shadow, Tae Suk breaks our hearts with his refusal to speak. Similarly, Sun Hwa, the frightened child-woman, tears us apart as she imparts a tenderness that she herself has never enjoyed. Somehow, these mute characters survive and transcend the noisy ugliness that surrounds them, and it is in these sequences that the characters and the viewers experience joy. The film concludes in a simultaneously terrifying and somehow tender scene that only the likes of Kim Ki Duk could imagine and successfully transpose onto film. Film hobbyists, reviewers and students alike will undoubtedly find themselves moved by Kim's latest production, subtle, beautiful, tragic and redemptive as it is.
The experience of "3 Iron" cannot be convincingly conveyed by words; only visually can this film be truly appreciated. Rent it, buy it, see it. This film deserves no less.
The Assassination of Richard Nixon (2004)
Sean Penn, better and better
A friend called me and told me that he thought Sean Penn was the world's greatest living actor. He had just watched "Mystic River." He said his reason for proclaiming this was because he thought Penn could convey more, SAY more, with his facial expressions than anyone else could do with words.
I don't know if I'd go as far as my friend, but he had a point. Penn's "Mystic River" performance was exceptional and deserving of his Oscar.
There was some hype about this "Assassination of Richard Nixon" picture and I figured I needed to see it. Critics were giving Penn a whole lot more kudos for it.
I rented it and was glad I did. Penn, particularly, is unsettlingly convincing as "everyman," and yes, indeed, he does convey so much information about the character he is portraying without saying a thing. Unlike in "Mystic River," in this movie, Penn's character is the only real focus. So the movie was, in a way, made as a showcase for Penn. The point of this review, however, is that Penn doesn't let us down, showcase or no. Penn is so engaging that it is nearly impossible to turn away from the screen unless you have to pee. From one instant to the next, especially when Penn is the only person in the frame, the audience has no idea what he is or is not going to do, so you sit there, with bated breath, awaiting his verbal outburst, or his pitiful weeping, or the havoc of his insensible violence or, more often, nothing whatsoever. His acting has already been delivered, through the close-ups on his face, through his body language, through his appraisal of the world in which he dwells. Subtle, observant, poignant direction, with Penn establishing every scene as such.
My final point is that the character is so well presented that you and I, as everyman or woman, can relate to him. It doesn't seem as if we're being manipulated, although it is obviously part of the director's intent to do just that. Penn's character doesn't seem to be disingenuous, so despite his eerie aspects and aspirations, the audience not only relates to the character but begins to root for him.
This review is not a spoiler, so I'll say no more except that this is Penn at his best and I expect we'll be seeing a lot more of him, not just on the silver screen but at those awards shows, too.