korea

Dooman River

Dooman River (Director: Zhang Lu): The tit­ular river divides North Korea from China, and the film tells the story of the vil­la­gers who live on the Chinese side of the border. Chinese-born Koreans like 12-year-old Chang Du have an ambi­valent rela­tion­ship with the North Korean refugees who sneak across the river to beg for food or to try to eke out an exist­ence without being dis­covered and sent back. Chang Du lives with his grand­father and mute sister, while his mother sends money back from her job in South Korea. His life changes when he meets a boy of his age who has crossed the river in search of food to bring back to his ill sister. The boys bond over a game of soccer and Chang Du invites the other boy back to play for their vil­lage team against another vil­lage. The bleak winter set­ting emphas­izes the village’s isol­a­tion from the rest of China and the vil­la­gers’ struggle to get by. Their com­munity exists as a sort of no-mans-land between the two coun­tries, but the pres­ence of armed border guards keeps people on edge.

The plot is thin but had poten­tial. Unfortunately, though, Dooman River never rises above the level of ham-fisted polit­ical fable. The cam­er­a­work is mostly static and each scene feels almost exactly the same length, giving the film the strange rhythm of a slide-show. As well, long stretches had very little hap­pening, but the attempt to tell the story entirely through mood is jarred in sev­eral places by melo­dra­matics which left this viewer scratching his head. Strangest of all is the impres­sion the film gives of these issues with the refugees arising just now, when the border has existed for more than fifty years. Villagers act like these refugees have just started appearing in their town a few weeks ago, and their exposition-heavy con­ver­sa­tions seem leaden and artificial.

Dooman River is playing Wednesday November 10 at 8:30pm at Innis Town Hall as part of the Toronto Reel Asian International Film Festival. Tickets are $12 and are avail­able online and at the door.

6/10(6/10)

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Rough Cut (Yeong-hwa-neun yeong-hwa-da)

Rough Cut (Yeong-hwa-neun yeong-hwa-da) (Director: Jang Hun): The Korean title of the film trans­lates roughly as “A Movie is a Movie” and that cap­tures a bit of the fla­vour of this gangster/buddy movie set within another film shoot. Written by Korean master Kim Ki-Duk (dir­ector of 3-Iron), it’s essen­tially the story of two men: Soo-ta is an action movie star, playing tough gang­ster roles. Gang-pae is an actual gang­ster, who has often wished he was a movie star. Their lives come together unex­pec­tedly when yet another co-star quits Soo-ta’s latest film, annoyed that the star has failed to pull his punches in their fight scenes. Soo-ta remem­bers Gang-pae after the gang­ster had one of his henchman ask for an auto­graph. The movie star pro­poses that Gang-pae join the pro­duc­tion and the gang­ster agrees on the con­di­tion that they fight for real. It’s a macho show­down that neither man can resist.

And for most of the movie, it’s played for laughs, with the film’s dir­ector wor­riedly asking “Soo-ta, are you alright?” after each of Gang-pae’s punches con­nects and draws blood. We also see the gang­ster lose some of his ruth­less­ness, thanks to a female co-star who falls for him. But he seems to resist making him­self so vul­ner­able and repeatedly reverts to his old per­sona. Dreaming of another life seems futile to him, and working on the film is taking him away from important work he’s doing for his imprisoned boss, whose trial is upcoming. And that work isn’t pretty.

The final third of the film is breath­taking. There is a cli­mactic fight scene for the film-within-a-film that takes place on a muddy beach, and both actors hold nothing back. By the end of it, it’s dif­fi­cult to tell one man from the other, which seems to indicate that some sort of bond has formed. Instead, the last scene rein­forces in the most brutal way the dif­fer­ence between the gang­ster and the movie star.

In keeping with Korean film tra­di­tion, the melo­drama is amped up, including the schmaltzy guitar soundtrack. The female char­ac­ters aren’t really developed much, either. But the end result is still effective; you want these two guys to become friends, to learn from one another. You want there to be the pos­sib­ility of redemp­tion. The ending isn’t so much frus­trating and shocking (though it is both) as it is incred­ibly sad.

Rough Cut has been picked up for dis­tri­bu­tion in Canada by Evokative Films. Look for the­at­rical and DVD releases next spring.

7/10(7/10)

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Action Boys
Editor’s Note: I’ve decided to begin posting some reviews of films screening at Hot Docs 2009 early, hope­fully helping anyone attending make some decisions about what to see. Action Boys is screening on Sunday May 3 at 9:45pm at Innis Town Hall and Monday May 4 at 4:15pm at the Cumberland Cinema.

Action Boys (Director: Jung Byung-gil): If you’ve ever wanted to know more about the guys who do the crazy stunts in Asian action and mar­tial arts films, Action Boys is for you. But instead of telling us how they do their incred­ible stunts, the film is more inter­ested in who they are when they’re not crashing cars or swinging swords. Director Jung Byung-gil is a 2004 graduate of the Seoul Action School, a rig­orous six-month training pro­gram for tele­vi­sion and film stuntmen, and the film is more like his per­sonal tribute to the friends he made there, even though most have not gone on to pro­fes­sional stunt work. Out of his class of 34, fewer than half com­pleted the training and at the time of filming in 2008, only three were actu­ally working as stuntmen.

Byung-gil him­self gave up stunt work for dir­ecting almost imme­di­ately, and it was his 2004 short film Standing on the Edge of a Sword that served as a sort of visual year­book and demo reel for all of his class­mates. We see some of that impressive footage but it’s bal­anced by hil­arious excerpts from the audi­tion tapes from all the main players in the film. Jin-seok was a former boxer (and hairdresser!) with six-pack abs. Sung-il was admitted, according to the school’s dir­ector, based on his good looks alone. And Gui-deok, des­pite an inaus­pi­cious audi­tion, has become the most accom­plished member of their class, and a spe­cialist in car stunts. These are the three who con­tinue to make their living as stuntmen. And then there’s the hap­less Sye-jin, who has failed to settle into any career at all, but who still tags along with the others like a lost puppy. He provides plenty of comic relief, but so does dir­ector Byung-gil, whose self-deprecation adds a con­sid­er­able amount of charm.

Although there are plenty of stunts on dis­play, this is mostly an unstruc­tured record of the ups and downs of a group of very close friends, some of whom happen to put their lives in danger every day. Invisible com­pared to the actors they stand in for, the Action Boys finally have the spot­light shone on them by someone who has been there. Theirs is a pro­fes­sion where, as Gui-deok says, they feel pain but are not allowed to express it, and this applies to more than just phys­ical pain. Apart from their close friend­ships with each other, the men find it hard to main­tain rela­tion­ships, since they are often called away at a moment’s notice to film a scene. For this reason, as well as all the phys­ical injuries they accu­mu­late, most don’t last very long in the busi­ness. Jung Byung-gil’s camera is able to cap­ture this giddy and tumul­tuous time in the lives of some of his closest friends, and it makes for a com­pel­ling film.

Because it’s such a per­sonal film, though, it can tend to sprawl a bit, and in true Korean fashion, there’s a strong under­cur­rent of sen­ti­ment­ality (accom­panied by some cheesy tinkly piano music every now and then). It’s lightened con­sid­er­ably by lots of self-deprecating humour, and an inter­esting dir­ect­orial decision to employ a female voi­ceover. Other very minor quibbles: in places, the sub­titles fly by pretty quickly, and a few of the minor char­ac­ters are easy to get con­fused. I’m a bit dis­ap­pointed not to be seeing this with an audi­ence, though, because I think this feel-good tribute to some of film’s unsung heroes is the sort of exper­i­ence that’s best enjoyed with an appre­ci­ative crowd. My pre­dic­tion: look for this to be in the run­ning for the Audience Award.

8/10(8/10)

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Hansel and Gretel

Hansel and Gretel (Director: Yim Pil-Sung): I’m cer­tainly no expert on horror films, never mind Asian horror films, but Yim Pil-Sung’s Hansel and Gretel has more in common with a film like Pan’s Labyrinth than, for instance, Ringu. That is to say, this film func­tions as much more than a simple scary movie.

Eun-Soo is on his way to visit his sick mother and on the phone with his preg­nant girl­friend when he swerves to avoid some­thing in the road. When he wakes up, he is able to crawl from his wrecked car before passing out again. When he wakes again, it is night­time and a young girl with a lan­tern is there to guide him to her house deep in the forest. Even before we arrive at the strange house, we know we’re in archetypal fairytale country. Eun-soo is a young man with some family issues. His girl­friend accuses him of not caring about the impending respons­ib­il­ities of fath­er­hood, and he reveals a bit later that he and his mother are not par­tic­u­larly close. When the angelic girl intro­duces him to her sib­lings and par­ents, there is clearly some­thing amiss. The adults seem fearful and defer con­stantly to the chil­dren, espe­cially brother Man-Bok. The house seems like some­thing out of an American sitcom from the 50s, filled with candy and toys and garish col­ours. Eun-Soo is con­vinced to spend the night, but when he sets out the next day to return to his car, he finds him­self back at the house again. So begins a multi-day ordeal and one creepy story.

The film does a mas­terful job of cre­ating an atmo­sphere of unease, com­bining cine­ma­to­graphy, score and art dir­ec­tion to con­vin­cingly por­tray this strangely sin­ister child-centred world. It slowly becomes clear after the “par­ents” dis­ap­pear that these kids have no real mother and father, and that they have been luring sub­sti­tute par­ents here for many years and trying to con­vince them to stay. What hap­pens to these luck­less sur­rog­ates is only par­tially revealed, but Eun-Soo is soon des­perate to return to the family he thought he didn’t need.

Hansel and Gretel

Strangely enough, these love-starved “chil­dren” end up teaching Eun-Soo a lot about fath­er­hood, espe­cially when he has to pro­tect them from a malevolent preacher. Like Eun-Soo, the plot does get a little tangled in the woods in the middle sec­tion, but the ending is sur­pris­ingly moving, and the per­form­ances of the three child actors are uni­ver­sally excellent.

Note: Hansel and Gretel is the second the­at­rical release of Evokative Films, whose founder Stéphanie Trépanier I inter­viewed recently.

Hansel and Gretel opens in Toronto on Friday March 27 for an exclusive run at the AMC Yonge-Dundas theatre.

8/10(8/10)

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West 32nd

by James McNally on November 16, 2008

in Film Festivals,Reel Asian

West 32nd

West 32nd (Director: Michael Kang): John Cho (Harold from Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle) plays John Kim, an ambi­tious young lawyer who offers to rep­resent a Korean teen­ager accused of a gang-related murder in New York’s Koreatown. His firm wants to raise its pro­file and he feels by doing this pro bono work, he can advance his career as well. His own Korean back­ground helps con­vince the boy’s family to sign on, but in reality, he doesn’t even speak the language.

Before he knows it, he’s caught up in an under­world he didn’t even know existed. He meets Mike (Jun Sung Kim), a mid-level gang­ster trying to move up in the hier­archy, and the two quickly recog­nize each other’s ambi­tion and begin an uneasy cooper­a­tion. But John is soon over his head in a cul­ture he doesn’t really under­stand, and before long, there are more dead bodies and he’s no closer to win­ning his case. By the end of the film, any hint of altruism in John’s offer to help is peeled away to reveal that he’s really not that dif­ferent from the gang­sters he’s trying to bring down.

Though Cho is effective as John Kim, it was Jun Sung Kim’s char­acter Mike Juhn who really lit up the screen for me. Unfortunately, the female char­ac­ters seemed largely dec­or­ative, but that seems to be part and parcel of the tra­di­tional Korean cul­ture that runs these crim­inal organ­iz­a­tions. The loc­a­tions in Manhattan and in Flushing, Queens added to the gritty realism of the film, and Kang used many actual Korean-American den­izens of the neigh­bour­hoods to fur­ther boost the authen­ti­city factor.

Kang has made a slick and effective thriller that, while not par­tic­u­larly ori­ginal, pays homage to both the American gang­ster films of the 70s and the more recent wave of Korean crime films. His co-writer is Edmund Lee, a former Village Voice reporter who spent years thor­oughly researching gangs and organ­ized crime in New York’s Korean com­munity. As Kang described the pro­ject, he started out trying to make a Korean-American ver­sion of The Departed and ended up with some­thing more like Mean Streets.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Michael Kang from after the screening (con­tains pos­sible spoilers):

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Duration: 14:00

Official site of the film
Director’s blog

7/10(7/10)

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