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London Korean Film Festival 2016: The quality is always high and the quantity seems to expand each year, as Helen M Jerome finds at the 2016 London Korean Film Festival. These days the best-curated festivals seem to take the temperature of not only their own culture, but also the world – the personal becoming the universal. Tackling eternal themes and shockingly contemporary trends through anything from costume drama to shoot-em-ups, Korean films continually rise to the challenge, and their ambitions and budgets seem to be growing at a similar rate.
We won’t linger long on the closing film, Yourself and Yours, from Hong Sang-Soo, which gives you exactly what you’d expect from Hong, the much-copied and highly influential master of clever repetition. Let’s instead focus on the opening film, Lee Kyoung-mi‘s The Truth Beneath, which sets the tone for a whole swathe of films by Korean women gathered at the festival. Co-written with long-time collaborator Park Chan-wook (Oldboy, Handmaiden), Lee’s film seems to be centred around a looming election in which one candidate’s slogan is ‘Your Children Are Safe‘… and then his own daughter, Min-jin, goes missing. The bereft couple are encouraged to keep it quiet – for the campaign’s sake.
They try to get help from a private detective, and the mother (Son Ye-jin, brilliant) pursues her own leads, hacking into her daughter’s laptop for clues, then getting her daughter’s only friend hypnotised to see if she can recall Min-jin’s abduction. Paranoia leads the mother further into corruption, and meanwhile the father is being wiretapped by his political rivals. And as the mother discovers things she’d rather not know, the story becomes yet more tangled, bloody and sleazy. Weirdly – or perhaps not, when you consider the co-writers’ pedigree – in the midst of the fast-paced thriller, there’s loads of wacky humour.
Eight years earlier, Lee Kyoung-mi made Crush And Blush (right, co-written with Park Chan-wook, who also ‘features’ in a not-quite-cameo on a character’s nametag). With themes of love and jealousy, plus wonderfully quirky characters, you can see how this feeds into Lee’s current work. In an excellent Q&A session afterward the screening, the director says that when she was working on Park’s famous film, Lady Vengeance, one of his assistants had a face that often reddened, and she picked up on this to use it in her own film: “I thought it was quite cute!” Noticeably all the female characters are fully fleshed-out people, whereas the men are almost all decorative, in a rare bit of role reversal. Lee adds: “I think I have a bit of me which is sadistic; I want people to remember the film for a long time.” And Lee also reckons that the immature, unstable character in the film is actually her!
Named Crushing It, in tribute to Lee Kyoung-mi’s debut, a welcome and very lively forum discussing female filmmaking featured Lee herself, veteran film-maker Yim Soon-rye plus Jane Gull, British director of indie feature My Feral Heart. Questions came fast and furious, and the three women directors held nothing back. Asked if there are any advantages in being a woman in the film industry, Yim says “Not a single one! And it’s now even harder.” Lee says the film industry is made of men who have developed the environment, “so it’s difficult for female director, and the method I choose is to find male colleagues who can help. And I am determined to survive.” Gull says the UK needs more entry-level female filmmakers and new female voices – though as the producer, she did at least get to hand-pick her crew. Yim says that the problem dates back to the 1990s, when all the technicians were male and they tended to push down female directors. She was bullied on set, then they all had a heavy drinking session. which she won!
Lee says that the memories were all starting to come back and she’d like to seek revenge on these people. [sounds like one of her films with Park?] Their advice to women in the industry is to channel their creative instinct and you’ll get more opportunities. Yim says that [counterintuitively] female audiences often prefer rough, macho, unrealistic films, because they go with their boyfriends. Lee says it’s harder to create roles with catharsis because of female physical strength – and funding is hard if one of the lead characters is a child, “and I still don’t understand this.” Bloody minded determination drives her on though. “Crush and Blush didn’t succeed and I wanted to make another film that did. So I said I’d carry on until I had a success!” Which The Truth Beneath certainly is.
The documentary to watch if you want to know more about Women in Korean Filmmaking is Yim Soon-rye’s 2001 film, Keeping The Vision Alive. Through lots of candid interviews with female directors, editors etc and a generous selection of clips, Yim shows how hard it is to join the boys’ club with its obstacles and drinking culture. as she discovered first hand.
Three more female-facing films from the last couple of years – all with women at the helm – give a glimmer of hope and show how much talent is coming through in Korea now. Boo Ji-young‘s Cart is based on real events, namely a lengthy 2007 supermarket workers’ strike. Similar to our own Made in Dagenham in tone, though not necessarily in outcome, this is very much an all-for-one, one-for-all type dispute, complete with occupation of the premises. The company try everything to break the strikers’ resolve, from pleading, threatening, dividing and bribing to using weaponised police and water cannons. and Boo makes the drama resonate by fully fleshing out the main strikers’ characters, motivations and home lives.
Also starting in a supermarket, where an idiosyncratic worker, Park Seoyoung, is being summarily (and perhaps justifiably) sacked, Blue Mouthed Face is Kim Soo-jung‘s involving portrait of Seoyoung’s life. There’s little through plot, however, just scenes building up our impression of her world and family. We see the dodgy young monk with whom she sings karaoke and has liaisons, and her smart, but physically disabled brother who lives at home, plus their ailing mum in hospital. Seoyoung is fighting off a loan company, and co-workers who at first bully her, then want to unionise (obviously a current concern in Korea). It’s never going to end well, but we go on an involving and ultimately shocking journey to get there.
Go to page 2 for more great films from the London Korean Film Festival 2016.
Lee Hyun-ju‘s Our Love Story brings together two young women from very different backgrounds: the arty student Yoon-ju who collects random bits and pieces to assemble into ambitious artworks, and the waitress with attitude, Ji-soo, who she keeps running into. Their attraction is magnetic, instant and irresistible, and their passion escalates swiftly, but there’s inevitably also jealousy, sulking, possessiveness and all stages of a relationship neatly compressed into a short time by Lee.
A handful of Korean actors embrace all eras and all genres, and the subject of this year’s festival focus, Baek yoon-sik, is always reliable, usually outstanding, and sometimes utterly iconic. In The Art Of Fighting, Shin Han-sol‘s 2005 debut, is a martial arts movie with Baek playing mentor to a shy lad, Byung-tae who is fed up with being bullied and beaten up. He wants to strike back and get revenge on the main bully, so they draw up a training regime (cue some not-exactly-Rocky sequences) and Byung-tae keeps a fight journal to mark his progress – and help the narrative structure. There are many hurdles to overcome though, with the turning point arriving when Byung-tae’s friend is almost kicked to death. Yet Baek isn’t always a consistently snow-white, morally upright example, which makes him more interesting. But he nevertheless dishes out nuggets of advice, like “Fighting isn’t about using your fists; it’s about dealing with life.”
Running at three hours, Inside Men: The Original is Woo Min-ho‘s director’s cut and has Baek in another pivotal role, deep in sleaze and criminality. As is noted, “there’s nothing money can’t buy”, and morals are left by the wayside as the body count (and hand count) continue to rise. The violence and politics are genuinely Shakespearean, but they’ll resonate with anyone who’s been following current affairs, corruption and populism in 2016.
Baek is also one of the stars of recent hit, Hur Jin-ho‘s Last Princess, a period piece based on the true story of the last princess of the Joseon Dynasty, Yi Deok-hye (Baek plays her father). And they’ve raided the costume store again here, and there are great leaps forward in time, although the dramatic pacing itself is more stately.
Asura: The City Of Madness, from Kim Sung-soo, is another huge hit that focuses on corruption, and looks fabulous throughout. Our protagonist, Detective Han (Jung Woo-sung) is deeply unpleasant and operates in a Dickensian world of feral criminals. His sick wife is in hospital, but he is consistently morally dubious, with internal affairs getting in on the act. There’s lots of macho posturing from all sides, from the mayor (Hwang Jung-min, superb) up and down the food chain. Han is faced with the option “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” and is forced to change sides and investigate the mayor (his wife’s half-brother), who he’s previously been helping. So there’s nothing straightforward for Han; he’s conflicted, and is faced by press coverage which is also manipulated. Car chases, fights and dodgy sidekicks lead Han to feel trapped, and he reaches the point of no return, with nothing left to lose. but can he escape fate?
Stylised to within an inch of its life, The Phantom Detective, classily directed by Jo Sung-hee, is set in the present, but is an almost-pastiche of retro detective flicks, with added menace and ramped up violence.
The Hunt, from Lee Woo-chul, is a tense affair. When an old woman finds gold on her dead son’s land, a motley crew of avaricious locals want it for themselves. But their mission is witnessed and their bloody exploits rumbled. Who is hunting who? Can the old man, the “geriatric Rambo” (Ahn Sung-ki, great) and the autistic girl (Han Ye-ri) beat the greedy, murdering brutes? As one of them rightly says, “This is like a scene from Deliverance!” And carnage ensues.
Fourth Place, from Jung Ji-woo, reflects on how competitive Korean society is from childhood onwards. The first 30 mins are shot entirely in black and white, starting with action from 1998, when a dedicated young swim champ, Kim, is set to be a potential world-beater until his gambling habit derails his chances. He steps away from his abusive, stick-wielding coach and leaves the sport. Switching to colour footage, and jumping to 14 years later, we can see how embittered Kim the man is. And this is where the main story takes over, with a mother who is frustrated by her son, Junho, who endlessly finishes in fourth place in every competition.
He is a very good swimmer, but not quite good enough to win and to satisfy her ambition. So she seeks out Kim, who reluctantly takes on Junho and puts him through gruelling training, pretty much as abusive as the training he experienced in his own boyhood. Yes, Junho starts to win, but at what cost? It says a lot about competitive parenting that the mother is more scared of Junho coming fourth again than him getting hit. Is history repeating itself – and will Junho quit, just as Kim did?
Finally, there’s always a good bunch of independent films on show at the Korean Film Festival, this time grouped under the umbrella title, Indie Firepower. A Mere Life, from Park Sang-hun, stars Jang Liu – who also heads up Blue Mouthed Face, here playing a mother who will do anything for herself, her husband, indolent drunk, Park Il-rae, and their young son. Everything is against them, not least Park’s gullibility, so it’s no surprise when he’s cheated out of all their savings. He is driven to the very edge by his own hubris, and descends into doing the worst thing imaginable. Much of the plot is reminiscent of Greek tragedy, and there’s something very powerful in the way the story of his downfall is presented.
Alone is a haunting film from the very talented Park Hong-min, and boasts a nightmarish opening sequence in which a man, Soo-min (Lee Ju-won, fantastic) is naked and alone, after witnessing and photographing the distant rooftop killing of a woman, then realising the killers have spotted him and are bearing down on him. But what is real and what is his dream? Who is alive and who has been murdered? The viewers (and probably Soo-min) are scratching their heads trying to piece together the sequence of events. We’re all mapping the winding alleys and stairways in which the exhilarating chases take place, sometimes feeling that they look the same, but repeated with crucial differences – in Hong Sang-soo style.
Compared with Christopher Nolan’s Memento, this feels much more threatening and out of control, with the protagonist seemingly powerless. Is everyone gradually turning into Soo-min, from cab drivers to cameramen? Or is this another nightmare? Is there an Oedipal theme, with him killing his father? Park himself explains that he used his own work space for the character (good for the budget and authenticity), but crucially confesses that he’s included very personal memories of his own father as this continues to influence him, “and I hated my father”. It would be hard to find a more honest Q&A session anywhere, giving yet another dimension to an excellent and at times surprising London Korean Film Festival. Roll on 2017’s fortnight!
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