Some 15 years ago Korean cinema lodged itself into a special
place in my heart, kicking and screaming all the way. Not a source of
tranquility or soothing balm, I came to look to the nation’s exploding film
scene for a reliable dose of cathartic turmoil.
While its output has been diverse, certain cultural qualities have often
found their way into the fast growing canon of work, not the least of which is
a tendency for biting rounds of verbal sparring. That and a tendency for
unleashing cutting societal criticisms have led to my rabid consumption of
South Korean film whenever the chance should arise.
For a while Korean cinema and I have experienced a bit of an
estrangement. General busyness has led to seeing less films, and those I have
seen felt as though they were laden with an uncharacteristic populist flavor.
Even when detailing great struggle, the mood was more celebratory than caustic.
So, it pleases me to report that this year’s rendition of
the New York Korean Film Festival, which runs from November 6 - 11 at the
Museum of the Moving Image, is bringing the nation’s collective angst back to
this metropolis in full force.
Perhaps the venue change to MOMI, situated in the internationally
flavored borough of Queens has made the difference; Its vast Sumner Redstone
theater is surely an ideal venue for absorbing films’ more bombastic qualities.
It may also owe a lot to this year being officially cosigned by Subway Cinema,
presenters of the New York Asian Film Festival, who have an eye always out for
Asia’s more electrifying works and a penchant for wrangling an impressive array
of guests.
The result is a lean selection of films that is crammed
tight with social issues, verbal exchanges both lively and thorny, and plenty
of blood spilled, with top notch guests a-plenty on hand to guide you through
it all.
The event is bookended by two films that could not be more
different tonally, yet manage to share a discontented point of view on
institutional injustice: Opening night film OFFICE is a creepy foray into
terror between the cubicles of a small and struggling company. Setting out to
immediately disturb, we watch as an office worker returns home and calmly
murders the members of his family with a chilling hammer attack. The moments of
terror that follow shift between otherworldly apparition, stealthy movements,
and paranoid perceptions. It is a confusing mix that intentionally keeps the
viewer off balance, but what remains clear throughout is that the office
politics are vicious, especially to its youngest and most powerless member, and
the affairs of the police who come to save the day are no less bound by red
tape.
Meanwhile festival closer WONDERFUL NIGHTMARE is a mostly lighthearted comedy that presents
the folly of a one way role reversal. An intensely independent, male bashing,
executive lawyer Yeon-woo, whose life is abruptly cut short by a celestial
error, is transplanted into the body of a housewife in the final weeks of her
life. Her struggles to cope with sudden domesticated complacence make for
riotous mirth, while highlighting the difference between traditional and more
modern gender roles. Her sudden transplant gives her a new perspective on the
effects of corporate interests forcing the hand of civic politics. Things get a
bit soapy when serious societal ills befall the members of Yeon-woo’s new clan, yet the story’s heart is
always in the right place in this mass appeal audience charmer.
Another grandiose production taking aim at corporate greed
unchecked is accomplished action director Ryoo Seung-wan’s ( THE CITY OF
VIOLENCE, THE UNJUST, THE BERLIN FILE) VETERAN, by way of an over the top cop
drama. After a largely unnecessary half hour of cartoonish action, the story
settles into a more tightly wound buildup to a showdown between a privileged
enfant terrible son of a corporate tycoon and the reckless top cop on the
previously introduced squad, who cannot stomach seeing the antagonist’s transgressions
go unchecked. Along with the numerous hotheaded wars of words, the film also
contains another familiar feature of many touchstone Korean films: a grudge
match between two directly opposed, usually male, individuals bent on tearing
each other apart. The film walks an interesting line between serious and silly.
It’s a moving depiction of growing class inequity, but never achieves the
emotional charge found in the strained loyalties of THE CITY OF VIOLENCE. The
numerous familiar faces of the Korean film landscape working together here is
impressive in and of itself.
The festival’s main thoroughfare can perhaps best be
characterized by a trio of dark dramas from outside of Korean cinema’s most widely
known pantheon. TRAP sends a modish screenwriter stuck in a quagmire of
writer’s block to a remote makeshift inn where he is immediately taken with the
property owner’s barely legal daughter. The source of his fascination is far
from innocent as she carries out accomplished acts of seduction. The fetishistic
camera work not only captures the writer’s enraptured perspective, but cheekily
dares viewers to not be taken in by it themselves. There may not be too much
below the surface of this assured exercise in eroticism and suspense, beyond
the notion that infatuation is just a slight step away from delirium. There is a definite gleam of mischief about
the film, a curious kindred spirit to OFFICE and WONDERFUL NIGHTMARE for
putting female characters in provocative, confrontational roles.
CONFESSION is an impressive feature debut that presents a
clash between ambition and loyalty amid relative poverty in elegant fashion. A
backdrop of dingy locales is a steady but not overbearing reminder of how
economics and the dangling carrot of financial gain affect the actions and
fates of its humble characters. The three individuals whose longstanding
friendship is tested are all well-developed and portrayed sympathetically. A
work of steadily paced, stirring drama that can truly carry its head held high.
Festival highpoint THE SHAMELESS is a fascinating
presentation of the tightrope walk of navigating hierarchical relationships in
South Korean society. There is a constant vying for the upper hand of status
amongst cops and crooks alike via words and tones, ever threatening to escalate
into physical violence. One would be hard pressed to find a cooler customer
than detective Jung Jae-gon (Kim Nam-gil) who makes his way through the
extremely corrupt landscape as an emotional grifter. He plays on women’s attraction
to find suspects on the run from the law. His encounter with bar mistress Kim
Hye-Kyung (Jeon Do-yeon, who delivers a perfect balancing act of ferocity and
frailty) leads to a crack in his resolve. While he wrestles internally with
what it means to lead an honorable path, his steely demeanor remains mostly
intact. With nary a crack in its vision
of heartbreak and weariness in a dilapidated urban sprawl, this is one not to
miss.
MADONNA is less artful than the rest of its cohort but still
compelling, as it weaves the tale of a hospital’s determined caregiver to
uncover the past of a comatose, pregnant patient. Meanwhile, strings are being
pulled by the son of an elderly wealthy patient on life support, who would
resort to immoral means to keep his father’s body alive another day. It’s a
chilling microcosm of the disparity of power amongst a nation’s citizens.
For those comfortable with the confrontational nature of
many Korean films, the biggest endurance test of the fest may in fact be THEBEAUTY INSIDE, which stands out as a tranquil romantic tale, albeit with a
fantastical twist. Its male lead suffers a curious affliction of waking up
every morning with a completely different body. A designer of fashionable
customized wooden furniture, he falls instantly in love with a woman who works
in a shop that sells said furniture. Despite circumstances, they give a
relationship a try and for a while, it's all ultra hip wooden chairs and equally
hip music choices during a meet that seems interminably cute. When the unique
and trying nature of his condition puts a strain on their relationship, things
do become sufficiently dramatic. The lack of effort to do anything to
understand or curtail the condition lends a fairy tale element. And really, the
inclusion of this unreal element allows the director to abstract the problems
faced by any typical relationship with adverse elements that has gone past the
honeymoon stage, and present them in an entertaining way. Though cloying at
times, its second half is heartfelt as is the film’s ambitions to say something about diversity in
these modern times.
For a full run down of the New York Korean Film Festival’s
selections and schedule, as well as guests due to appear, visit the Museum ofMoving Image’s website.
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