A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Showing posts with label Doona Bae. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Doona Bae. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 28, 2020

Barking Dogs Never Bite (Bong Joon-ho, 2000)

Lee Sung-Jae and Doona Bae in Barking Dogs Never Bite
Cast: Lee Sung-Jae, Doona Bae, Kim Ho-jung, Byun Hee-Bong, Go Su-hee, Kim Roe-ha, Kim Gin-goo, Im Sang-soo, Seong Jeong-seon. Screenplay: Bong Joon-ho, Song Ji-ho, Derek Son Tae-woong. Cinematography: Cho Yong-kyou. Production design: Lee Hang. Film editing: Lee Eun Soo. Music: Jo Sung-woo.

After watching several films by Bong Joon-ho, I should know to expect the unexpected, but even his very first feature, Barking Dogs Never Bite, threw me for a loop. What to make of a film whose protagonist, an unemployed academic kept sleepless by the demands of his pregnant wife and a barking dog in his apartment building, captures what he thinks is the offending animal and, failing in his attempt to throw it off the roof or to hang it by its leash, shuts it into a cabinet, but after finding that it was the wrong dog, unable to bark because of a throat operation, returns to the basement to release it, only to find that it's being stewed and eaten by the janitor? Moreover, after this experience, he does find the barker and this time succeeds in throwing it off the roof. And eventually the janitor finds the carcass and eats it too. Would it be fair to say that a failure of tone if not taste has taken place? But tone is something, to judge by Bong's other films, the director thumbs his nose at. Suffice it to say that there's something to offend almost everyone in Barking Dogs Never Bite, which seems to delight in treating animal cruelty as a subject for comedy. The film actually begins with the proclamation that no animals were harmed in its production, which doesn't exactly get Bong off the hook for his depiction of animal abuse. But what it does is remind us that this is "only a movie," or that we should approach the film with the awareness that there's a reason it's going to shock or offend us. The reason, I think is that Bong wants us to question our reactions, to examine why our responses are the way they are. Does the death of the small animal flung from the roof offend us more or less than the death of its somewhat addled human owner? Barking Dogs Never Bite doesn't succeed in part because it meanders a bit into the lives of its ancillary characters, such as the young woman who accidentally witnesses the killing of the second dog and pursues the killer, filled with dreams of being celebrated as a hero on television when she captures him. And then there's the protagonist's attempt to raise enough money to bribe a dean into giving him a professorship. It often seems as if Bong had ideas for at least three movies that he tried to blend into one. Still, as an expression of an ironic vision by a gifted artist, the movie can't be dismissed simply as a failure. Rather, it's an astonishing feature film debut by a director who would find his footing soon enough. 

Saturday, June 24, 2017

Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (Park Chan-wook, 2002)

Ha-kyun Shin and Doona Bae in Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance
Ryu: Ha-kyun Shin
Dong-jin Park: Hang-ko Song
Yeong-mi Cha: Doona Bae
Ryu's Sister: Ji-eun Lim
Yu-sun: Bo-bae Han

Director: Park Chan-wook*
Screenplay: Park Chan-wook, Jae-sun Lee, Jong-yong Lee, Mu-yeong Lee
Cinematography: Byeong-il Kim
Production design: Jung-hwa Choe

I watched Park Chan-wook's "vengeance trilogy" inside-out: first the middle film, Oldboy (2003), then the third, Lady Vengeance (2005), and finally the initial film in the series, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. The order doesn't really matter, because it has become clear to me that what Park has given us is not just, as some have suggested, an updated version of the Elizabethan and Jacobean revenge tragedies like Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy, Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus, and Webster's The Duchess of Malfi, but a vision of hell, especially if you adhere to the idea advanced by Sartre that hell is other people. Park has a way of populating his stories with nightmare figures that play no essential role in the plot, like the dudes in the next room who masturbate to the sound of Ryu's sister groaning in pain (which Ryu himself, being a deaf-mute, cannot hear), or the mysterious mentally and physically afflicted man who appears as Ryu is trying to cover his sister's body with stones and persists in trying to remove them until he's driven away, meanwhile distracting Ryu from the drowning Yu-sun. There's also the fired employee who stops Dong-jin Park's car and proceeds with a failed attempt at seppuku, heightening Dong-jin's feelings of guilt, perhaps, but not providing an essential element in the narrative. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance is, I think, the least successful of the three films: It doesn't succeed in transcending the revenge motif the way Oldboy does with its echoes of Dostoevsky and Kafka, and it doesn't have the technical finesse of Lady Vengeance. Its chief virtue is, especially in comparison with Lady Vengeance, the relative straightforwardness of its narrative, with the added ambiguity of its title: Is Ryu or Dong-jin "Mr. Vengeance"? In fact, the film is less about vengeance than about guilt: Ryu's sister commits suicide because she feels guilty for the kidnapping of Yu-sun, and passes along the burden of guilt to her brother when Yu-sun dies, while Dong-jin is filled with remorse over the consequences of his business failure. Park Chan-wook's characters exist in a world where there's no escape from guilt and no hope for redemption. Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

*See footnote to Lady Vengeance

Watched on Filmstruck