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London Korean Film Festival 2023 by Helen M Jerome: The London Korean Film Festival is often the highlight of my cinematic year. What started out as a niche festival – some two decades back – is now very much part of the mainstream. With erudite and entertaining talks and Q&As to accompany many screenings, it has something for everyone and every taste.
Korean filmmakers above all know how to tell a good story. The main thrust of the festival may be moving away from the epic and towards the personal, but whatever the size of the canvas, they tackle big issues and have really started to dig into their recent past along with current concerns. So you’ll find deception and corruption alongside bullying and drunkenness.
I have to pick out Phantom (above) as my personal favourite from this year’s festival, and not just because it features two kick-ass female protagonists and an excellent getaway vehicle. Directed by Lee Hae-Young (The Silenced) it’s set 90 years ago, with the Japanese occupation in full effect, and suspicion and espionage around every corner. The idea is that underground agents – or phantoms – are working against the Japanese and must be rooted out. But is one of the suspected phantoms, in fact, a double agent? There’s a timelessness to the look and feel of the period story, with some Cluedo/ Knives Out/ Agatha Christie-style intrigue and plotting in a remote hotel, complete with its own handy dungeons. Properly entertaining and thrilling (and frequently brutal), and you’ll find yourself taking sides in the classic battle between good and evil.
Our Body (below), from Han Ka-Ram, could have the alternative title of ‘What I Think About When I Think About Running’ (to paraphrase Haruki Murakami), as its protagonist Ja-young (Choi Hee-seo) suddenly takes up intensive exercise and especially night-running. This is mainly to emulate the young woman she sees doing the same, and they quickly become running mates. At the edge of the plot, however, is the suggestion that this could turn into something more intimate. For this is a journey into the heart, mind and soul of one woman struggling with the expectations from her peers, family and most of all herself – and perhaps her finding some resolution.
Somewhere between emotional autobiography and Chekhov’s Three Sisters comes A Letter From Kyoto (below), director Kim Min-ju’s homage to a devoted, but ageing matriarch, with three daughters. It’s all about going home, trying to leave, and remembering lost roots. Just like the mother in her movie, Kim has Japanese ancestry, which gives her an interesting outsider’s insight into Korean society and family. It also feels incredibly timely, as the ageing population together with the dwindling birthrate of those generations expected to work and care for the elders is a slow-motion car crash happening not just in Korea, but worldwide.
Hail To Hell (Lim Oh-jeong) starts out as the story of two punkish, outcast and bullied friends who want revenge. These schoolgirls up sticks and travel to seek out the main culprit and find she’s changed, transforming herself into an upstanding and deeply religious person… apparently. There are so many layers and so much jeopardy in this for all the characters, but especially for the central trio. They seem to be inadvertently uncovering what’s at the heart of a remote organisation and its dedicated disciples. But is it a bona fide faith or a dodgy cult scamming its followers?
A Wild Roomer from Lee Jeong-hong is a delicious mash-up of mismatched buddy movie and incredibly amateur crime sleuthing, in almost observational style. There’s dry humour throughout, and a neat contrast between disciplined piano lessons and chaotic tennis lessons. Incidentally shining a spotlight on everyday drunkenness (a common theme in Korean cinema) as a lodger finds his landlord co-habitants almost too friendly. Sprawling and full of ideas, this is a hugely promising debut, and I’m looking forward to whatever Lee does next.
Equally sprawling is Lee Kwang-kuk’s A Wing And A Prayer, mainly because it follows two diverging stories of friends who decide to go their separate ways. Sweet and offbeat, with dialogue that feels naturalistic and semi-improvised, the action is propelled by a jaunty soundtrack. In contrast, it also foregrounds bullying, very much as a societal problem across all generations, and perhaps all cultures.
Finally, even though I’m not yet a fully paid-up member of the Hong Sang-soo fan club, I do appreciate his work. With Walk Up he shoots in sumptuous black and white, and his highly-stylised, incredibly self-aware, self-referential film-making here focuses on being a creative. Indeed the director even portrays the artist at its heart as a version of himself, superbly played by Kwon Haehyo. Bringing him down to earth though is his daughter and his clumsy attempt to do some parachute parenting to help her. While pondering at the value and currency of art itself, Hong jumps around chronologically and mixes talk of fear, religion and wild ginseng, yet his grab-bag of ideas somehow sticks together thanks to the look and feel of the movie. Maybe I’ll join that fan club yet…
If you didn’t catch anything in this year’s wonderful Korean film festival, either in London or around the UK, make a note that the next one is in November 2024. As always, my advice is to book as much as you can, the moment it’s announced. See you there!
Websites: KoreanFilm.co.uk and KCCUK.org.uk