Photo caption: Ha Seong-guk, Kim Min-hee and Shin Seok-ho in IN WATER. Courtesy of Cinema Guild.
In Hong Sang-soo’s In Water, an actor-director (Shin Seok-ho) is plunging his savings into a short film that he is directing. He rents a three-bedroom house on the seaside for a week to house himself, an actress (Kim Min-hee) that he’s worked with before and a cinematographer (Ha Seong-guk) that he and the actress don’t know. The problem is that the director still doesn’t know what his film will be about.
The three walk along the shore and eat take-out food, while the director keeps delaying the shoot, stalling until his has an idea. The actress and the cinematographer, with more patience than the audience, are trying to figure out what’s going on. Finally, the director has a mundane encounter with a local that he replicates in his film, and tops it with a quietly dramatic statement about his own artistic malaise. In scenes that portray the director’s indecision, Hong Sang-soo intentionally blurs the camera (see image below) and plays tinny music.
Kim Min-hee, Ha Seong-guk and Shin Seok-ho in IN WATER. Courtesy of Cinema Guild.
Writer-director Hong Sang-soo cranks out little, intimate, clever films like Woody Allen did in his heyday and is kind of his own genre. As he demonstrates in Yourself and Yours, Claire’s Camera, Walk-up and The Woman Who Ran, Hong is a droll observer of human behavior. There’s usually a movie director character and lot of drinking and eating in his films. He checks the boxes here, with meals and snack runs and a shoju binge.
I always enjoy watching Kim Min-hee, she of the riveting performance in The Handmaiden. She’s a huge star in Korea, but she’s in an off-screen relationship with Hong Sang-soo, and she’s been showing up in his little movies.
I’ll watch any Hong-Sang-Soo movie, but I don’t think this one pays off. Even though it’s only 60 minutes long, I can only recommend In Water for hardcore Hong Sang-soo fans. I do recommend that you sample Hong Sang-soo by watching his You, Yourself and Yours, which I tagged as “Buñuel meets Seinfeld”; you can find it titled Yourself and Yours streaming on AppleTV and YouTube.
Photo caption: Kim Min-hee and Song Seon-mi in THE WOMAN WHO RAN. Courtesy of Cinema Guild.
In The Woman Who Ran, even after a few years of marriage, Gam-hee (Kim Min-hee) has never been apart from her husband until he takes a business trip; she takes advantage of the opportunity to visit each of three old friends to catch up. In each of the three vignettes, Gam-Hee gets a tour of the friend’s house, sits for a meal and covers much the same ground in conversation. The audience settles in, and gleans a few nuggets about each of the women. It’s pretty low-key until the eruption of a final simmering confrontation.
Writer-director Hong Sang-soo cranks out little, intimate, clever films like Woody Allen did in his heyday and is kind of his own genre. As he demonstrates in Yourself and Yours, Claire’s Camera, Walk-up and The Woman Who Ran, Hong is a droll observer of human behavior. There’s usually a lot of drinking and eating in his films; there’s far less drinking than usual in The Woman Who Ran, but the gals do devour the food.
The acting is first-rate, especially Kim Min-hee, whom we also saw in Hong Sang-soo’s Claire’s Camera, You may remember her riveting performance in The Handmaiden.
I’m such a fan, I’ll watch any Hong-Sang-Soo movie. Even though The Woman Who Ran is only 77 minutes long, I won’t recommend it to a general audience because the payoff is not worth such slow burn. I do recommend that you sample Hong Sang-soo by watching his You, Yourself and Yours, which I tagged as “Buñuel meets Seinfeld”; you can find it as Yourself and Yours on AppleTV and YouTube.
The Woman Who Ran is available to stream from AppleTV and YouTube.
Photo caption: Greta Lee, John Magaro and Teo Yoo in PAST LIVES. Courtesy of A24
Past Lives is a profound romance, with one evolving relationship, and then a second, with the lives, loves and obsessions of three decent people swirling between two cultures over 24 years. The character-driven screenplay is a triumph for writer-director Celine Song in her first feature film.
The story of Past Lives begins 24 years ago in Korea, where a girl and a boy, 12-year-old classmates, are childhood best buddies. They have grown up as playmates, and are now each other’s first crush. The girl’s parents permanently relocate the family to Canada, and the two kids lose touch.
Twelve years later, the girl has grown into Nora (Greta Lee), a budding playwright in New York. The boy, Hae Sung (Teo Yoo) is an engineering student in Korea. Hae Sung tracks down Nora through social media, and the two have a reunion on Skype. The video calls became more frequent, and they kindle a tender and genuine adult relationship. They are becoming so close that it’s frustrating to not be geographically together, but they each have committed to career plans; she is beginning a writing fellowship in New York, and he’s about to go learn Mandarin in China. Nora recognizes that they are slipping into a love that is impractical and would require a major sacrifice by one of them – and she ends the calls.
Another twelve years pass, and Nora is still living in New York, but with her husband Arthur (John Magaro). Hae Sung is visiting New York and Nora arranges to meet him. When they finally meet again face-to-face, Nora learns what she may have suspected – the sole reason for Hae Sung’s visit is to see her. This meeting, awaited for 24 years, is clearly emotionally loaded for him; is it loaded for her as well?
Photo caption: Teo Yoo and Greta Lee in PAST LIVES. Courtesy of A24.
Now Nora has two men who want her, and she’s married to one of them. To describe Past Lives as a love triangle might be technically correct but would mislead you, because Past Lives is so specific, authentic and refreshing that it defies the conventions of the form. That we are so often surprised by Song’s movie is probably a telling comment on how we have been conditioned by insipid, shallow and inauthentic movie romances.
According to the conventions of Hollywood, Nora would run off with her soulmate – but which guy is that, exactly? It’s not quite the choice between Rick Blaine or Victor Laszlo, either. Each guy can give her something the other cannot. Each guy understand aspects of her that the other cannot. Nora describes Hae Sung to Arthur with “He’s so Korean“, and it’s unclear to what extent Nora see this as a good or bad thing.
There’s nary a false note in either of Nora and Hae Sung’s reunions, and the final dialogue is PERFECT.
Greta Lee in PAST LIVES. Courtesy of A24.
The performances do justice to the superb screenplay. Greta Lee plays Nora, who is the most central character (because she must choose between the others). Lee’s Nora is usually reserved and contained with others, sometimes even a cipher, but Lee is still able to convey Nora’s thinking and feeling.
Teo Yoo’s plays Hae Sung as an obsessive who ultimately evolves the most of any character. To Hae Sung, Nora is an object of fantasy for decades, and then he must see her as a person. There’s a scene at a carousel where Nora wants Hae Sung to speak to his feelings, and heartbreakingly, his cultural upbringing just won’t let him do it.
The most extraordinary performance is by John Magaro, an actor I had seen in The Big Short, The Many Saints of Newark and 18 1/2 without any appreciation that he was capable of work like this. Who wouldn’t be threatened when your partner’s first crush shows up to woo her? And when they are next to you, speaking with each other in a language you can’t understand? Arthur knows that he has played his hand already, and can only wait for the other cards to be revealed to see if he has won or lost. If he acts out, he would only hurt his chances. As he puts on a mask of stoicism and civility, Magaro’s Arthur is practically vibrating with anxiety.
In a clever prologue, Celine Song begins her movie with unseen patrons at a New York City bar trying to figure out the back story between the three people grouped across the room – an Asian man, an Asian woman and a white guy. Indeed, the movie is about who those three people are to each other. Like her character Nora, Song was born in Korea, immigrated to Canada with her parents, and lives in New York City with her American writer husband.
Song seems to be saying that love is more than one’s own feelings of attraction and connection; love also requires knowing who the other person truly is and is not, which demands setting aside one’s own perspective to listen and observe empathetically.
Photo caption: Don Lee as Detective Ma in THE ROUNDUP: NO WAY OUT. Courtesy of Capelight Pictures
Sometimes we just need an unapologetic gene movie, and the Korean action comedy The Roundup: No Way Out is just that. Our burly hero, detective Ma Seok-do (Don Lee), is a loveable lug with a gift for the one-punch knockout. Ma is also the smartest cop on the force and must suffer the fools around him. But it’s his singular physicality that makes for bull-in-the-china shop mayhem when he is forced into violence.
The Roundup: No Way Out is the third movie in the Detective Ma franchise, following The Outlaws (2017) and The Roundup, Korea’s #1 hit film of 2022.
Don Lee (right) as Detective Ma in THE ROUNDUP: NO WAY OUT. Courtesy of Capelight Pictures
I think that much of Detective Ma Seok-do’s appeal is that, as determined as he is to get the bad guys, he doesn’t have any of the meanness, bitterness or alienation of a Dirty Harry-type cop hero. Interestingly, the character’s name resembles Don Lee’s non-stage name, Ma Dong-seok.
The plot of The Roundup: No Way Out involves the interruption of a designer drug deal, which results in two gangs racing the cops to find a missing $30 million drug stash. Each villainous gang leader villains is more ruthless and cruel than the last. This time, for a little added umami, one of the gangs is from Japan.
The charm of The Roundup: No Way Out is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously. There are no deep themes to explore here and no message – just an amiable protagonist, some laughs and almost non-stop action.
Photo caption: Park Ji-min in RETURN TO SEOUL. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.
As the brilliantly crafted and emotionally gripping Return to Seoul opens, we meet a free-spirited young woman (Park Ji-min) with the decidedly non-Korean name Frederique Benoit. Freddie is French, having been adopted from Korea by a French couple as an infant. Freddie doesn’t speak Korean, doesn’t know anything about Korean culture, and is only in Korea because of a last minute pivot from some disrupted vacation travel.
Freddie travels for pleasure and loves to party – and party hard. She is certainly NOT prepared for a quest to find her biological parents, but an acquaintance gives her a tip, and she can’t resist following up. What follows is an exceptional and unpredictable personal journey told in four segments – the second five years after the first, the third and fourth just a year or two apart.
Return to Seoul features a screenplay without any hint of cliché and a stunning breakthrough performance by its lead actress.
Freddie is brash, impulsive and unfiltered. Her feelings about the circumstances of her adoption are authentic and complicated. She doesn’t seem either needy or resentful – but what is beneath the surface? After all, she does have a visceral distaste for celebrating her birthday.
Freddie is frequently impolite and often mistreats those who care for her with breathtaking awfulness; she dispatches one boyfriend with a line of staggering cruelty – and then repeats it..
As Freddie, Park Ji-min is a revelation in her FIRST FILM role. She’s on screen in every scene, and we’re always on the edge of our seat wondering how she’ll react – for better or for worse. We ‘re on Freddie’s roller coaster, and Park Ji-min is driving it.
Park Ji-min in RETURN TO SEOUL. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.
Park Ji-min is a visual artist who often paints with latex. Like Freddie, she’s confident enough – in her first filmmaking – to have insisted on eschewing a blonde wig for a black leather wardrobe in the second segment because she saw the character of Freddie as a warrior. After a stunning, sure to be star-making performance in Return to Seoul, she says she’s now deciding whether to accept further acting gigs (and I sure hope she does). In the meantime, she’s become a spokesperson for Dior.
Park Ji-min moved with her Korean parents from Korea to France in her childhood. She heard of this film project from a friend who, like the character of Freddie, was adopted from Korea by French parents.
Writer-director Davy Chou is French-born of Cambodian parents. This is only his second feature, and it’s a near masterpiece primarily because Chou has created an entirety original and complex protagonist.
Freddie’s biological father is played by Oh Kwang-rok, a Korean actor of note, who delivers a heartfelt and sometimes smoldering performance.
I found Return to Seoul to be a thrilling experience, a better film than any of last year’s ten nominees for the Best Picture Oscar. The Wife, while moved by the penultimate scene, was much less impressed. She thought one music-related thread had been ignored for the middle of the film, and was underwhelmed by the ending.
Go see Return to Seoul at your arthouse theater – it’s the first Must See of 2023. I’ll let you know when it streams.
Photo caption: Park Hae-il and Tang Wei in DECISION TO LEAVE. Courtesy of MUBI.
In the roller coaster neo-noir Decision to Leave, detective Hae-joon (Park Hae-il) is already an obsessive personality, whose agonizing over unclosed cases has given him chronic insomnia, He and his wife have an apartment near her job, but he works in a different city, and the walls of his pied–à–terre are covered with crime scene photos from the unsolved cases, just so he can stew about them even more. For his wellbeing, this is the very last guy who should be exposed to a mysterious femme fatale.
He investigates a death in the mountains, which could be a mountain climbing accident or suicide – or perhaps a brilliantly configured murder. He suspects the victim’s much younger Chinese wife, Seo-rae (Tang Wei) a woman with a past, but she has an airtight alibi. He interrogates her and surveils her, which she seems to enjoy, and he becomes more and more fascinated with her. He is utterly beguiled, and Decision to Leave becomes ever more the page turner as the sexual tension escalates. This evolves into a perverse battle of wits that Hae-joon may not be destined to win.
Decision to Leave is the work of writer-director Park-chan Wook, who made the brilliantly erotic The Handmaiden. Like The Handmaiden, Decision to Leave doesn’t end when the audience expects it to. And, like in The Handmaiden, not everything is as it seems.
Tang Wei is exceptional as she unpeels the onion that is Seo-rae. When we first meet Seo-rae, the effect is nothing like the stunning introductions of Barbara Stanwyck’s Phyllis Diedrichson, Jane Greer’s Kathie or Rita Hayworth’s Gilda; we underestimate her. We watch as she cleverly and somewhat conventionally captivates Hae-joon. But nothing prepares us for her revealing just how twisted a mastermind she turns out to be. She’s a femme fatale for the ages.
A scene from Ran-hee Lee’s film A LEAVE. Courtesy of SFFILM
Ran-hee Lee’s unpretentious A Leaveis a surprisingly insightful slice-of-life into the modern global workplace. It opens on Day 1893 of a labor sit-in, as laid-off workers hold out to get reinstated in their longtime jobs. They have obviously lost this struggle a long while ago, although not everyone is ready to internalize that fact and move on. Middle-aged Jaebok, one of the sit-in;s remaining leaders, decides to take a leave from organizing that he characterizes as “like taking a leave from work”.
With some distance from the day-to-day campaign, he’s back in his apartment, and back to clogged drains and surly teenagers. He realizes that, without a paycheck, he cannot give his kids what they need (and his bright, promising older daughter needs college tuition). So, Jaebok finds a job in the new economy.
A scene from Ran-hee Lee’s film A LEAVE. Courtesy of SFFILM
It turns that his new job is as a temp contract worker in a sweat shop that supplies a big company like the one that laid him off. His new boss sells the opportunity with, “the company is disaster-free” – a low bar if ever there were one.
Jaebok, used to a decades-long career path with a single employer is puzzled by the revolving door of fellow workers. Only one young guy stays for more than a couple days, and many of the others must be undocumented immigrants working illegally.
The younger worker is not used to any continuity of co-workers – and not used to having relationships with his co-workers, something that Jaebok thinks is normal. The kid believes that asking for an eight hour shift is quaint.
A Leave is the first feature for writer-director Ran-hee Lee. She knows how to tell a little story in a little movie, which is not faint praise at all. Sometimes a little story is the best way to unmask great truth.
Lee uses non-actors in the film Her leading man is a 49-year-old guy who was laid off in real life and then picked up a temp job as a low wage contractor with undocumented, very green co-workers.
I screened A Leave for the SFFILM, where it won a jury mention.
A scene from Ran-hee Lee’s film A LEAVE. Courtesy of SFFILM
Ah-In Yoo in #ALIVE, Photo courtesy of Perspective Pictures.
Just suppose there’s a pandemic and you can’t leave your home. Oh, wait…
In #Alive, a pulmonary affliction is causing people in a Korean metropolis to savagely attack and bite other humans, further spreading the pandemic. The young gamer Jun-woo (Ah-In Yoo) is isolated in his eighth floor apartment, under siege from what are essentially zombies. It’s kind of Home Alone with zombies.
The hook here is that, like in Home Alone, our hero must depend on his ingenuity to survive, both in fighting off the cannibalistic attackers and in harvesting equipment, food and water from the ravaged apartment building. Fortunately, he discovers another, much smarter survivor, a girl (Shin Hye-Park) holed up in the apartment building across the courtyard. There are two surprises in the final 20 minutes.
Ah-In Yoo (wielding golf club) in #ALIVE, Photo courtesy of Perspective Pictures.
This is the first feature for writer-director Il Cho. He peppers #Alive with funny bits, all the more effective because he doesn’t linger on any of them. One example is when Jun-Yoo presses a button to wait for an elevator as a horde of zombies rush toward him.
#Alive contains the requisite amount of throat biting, brain eating, amputations and bloody splatter for a zombie movie. If you don’t like gore, there are better choices for you on my list of Zombie Movies for People Who Don’t Like Zombie Movies.
This isn’t great cinema, but it has its moments. #Alive is streaming on Netflix. On Netflix, the Korean dialogue is both subtitled and dubbed into English.
The absurdism of Luis Buñuel meets the social awkwardness of Seinfeld in Hong Sang-soo’s Koran comedy Yourself and Yours.
In Yourself and Yours, Minjung (Lee You-young) dumps her boyfriend (Kim Joo-hyuck) after he objects to her heavy drinking (“I’ve stopped drinking – now I stop after only five rounds“). Then another man thinks that he meets Minjung, but she claims that she is Minjung’s identical twin. We’re not so sure about that. And then she meets ANOTHER man, and her identity remains in question. Her original boyfriend is comically bereft, and he’s on the lookout for her, too.
One character says “You men are all pathetic“, and Minjung proves that point at every opportunity. In a deliberate homage to Buñuel’s That Obscure Object of Desire, Lee You-young plays the role of Minjung and her multiple doppelgängers (unless they are all really Minjung herself). There are plenty of LOL moments as Yourself and Yours winds its way full circle to a satisfyingly sly finale.
I saw Yourself and Yours (Dangsinjasingwa dangsinui geot) at the San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILM). In an Only-At-SFFILM moment, I (a Hong Sang-soo newbie) was surrounded in the audience by devoted Hong Sang-soo fans. During its Bay Area virtual run at the Roxie, you can stream Yourself and Yours at Roxie Virtual Cinema.
After a few minutes of The Handmaiden, we learn that it’s a con artist movie. After 100 minutes, we think we’ve watched an excellent con artist movie, but then we’re surprised by a huge PLOT TWIST, and we’re in for two more episodes and lots of surprises in a gripping and absorbing final hour. It’s also one of the most visually beautiful and highly erotic films of the year.
Director and co-writer Chan-wook Park sets the story in 1930s Korea during Japanese occupation (Japanese dialogue is subtitled in yellow and Korean dialogue in white). A young heiress has been secluded from childhood by her guardian uncle, who intends to marry her himself for her fortune. A con man embarks on a campaign to seduce and marry the wealthy young woman to harvest her inheritance himself. The con man enlists a pickpocket to become handmaiden to the heiress – and his mole. I’m not going to tell you more about the plot, but the audience is in for a wild ride.
The Handmaiden takes its time revealing its secrets. Who is conning who? Who is attracted to whom? How naive is the heiress? How loyal is the handmaiden? Who is really Japanese and who is really Korean? What’s in those antique books? What’s in the basement? Is the uncle perverted or REALLY perverted? And what legendary sex toy will show up in the final scene?
THE HANDMAIDEN
Chan-wook Park’s 2003 US art house hit Oldboy is highly sexualized, trippy and disturbing. The Handmaiden is much more mainstream and accessible than Oldboy, but its sexuality packs a punch.
Gorgeous and erotic, The Handmaiden is one of the most gloriously entertaining films of the year. You can order the DVD from Netflix or stream it on Amazon Instant Video, iTunes, Vudu, YouTube and Google Play.
