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 Mun Seong-kun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mun Seong-kun. Show all posts

Saturday, April 4, 2020

Burning (Lee Chang-dong, 2018)

Yoo Ah-in, Jun Jong-seo, and Steven Yeun in Burning
Cast: Yoo Ah-in, Steven Yeun, Jun Jong-seo, Kim Soo-Kyung, Choi Seung-ho, Mun Seong-kun, Min Bok-gi, Lee Soo-Jeong, Ban Hye-ra, Cha Mi-Kyung, Lee Bong-ryeon. Screenplay: Oh Jungmi, Lee Chang-dong, based on a story by Haruki Murakami. Cinematography: Hong Kyung-pyo. Production design: Shin Jum-hee. Film editing: Kim Da-won, Kim Hyun. Music: Mowg.

Not surprisingly, given that it's based on one of his short stories, Burning gave me the unsettled feeling I get from reading Haruki Murakami's fiction: the sense that the world is stranger than it appears when we go about our daily routines. And that looking too closely at its anomalies can be dangerous. Certainly, if Lee Jong-su (Yoo Ah-in) had never paused to reacquaint himself with Shin Hae-mi (Jun Jong-seao), a friend from his childhood now grown up, he would never have been drawn into the mystery that surrounds her and Ben (Steven Yeun), the acquaintance she brings back from a trip to Africa. But who's to say that Jong-su's life, marked by his mother's abandoning the family when he was a child and by his father's trial for an act of angry violence, would have taken an easy course? The tension that builds throughout Burning is born of peeling back the layers of the quotidian. If we all did that, we probably wouldn't encounter elusive cats, disappearing women, Korean Gatsbys, and compulsive acts of arson the way Jong-su does, but Lee Chang-dong makes it entirely plausible that we might, which results in a brilliant, challenging, haunting film.

Saturday, October 12, 2019

On the Beach at Night Alone (Hong Sang-soo, 2017)


On the Beach at Night Alone (Hong Sang-soo, 2017)

Cast: Kim Min-hee, Seo Young-hwa, Jeong Jae-yeong, Mun Seong-kun, Kwon Hae-hyo, Song Seon-mi, Ahn Jae-hong. Screenplay: Hong Sang-soo. Cinematography: Kim Hyung-ku, Park Hong-yeol. Film editing: Hahm Sung-won.

On the Beach at Night Alone is narratively simple: An actress recovering from an affair with her married director that caused a scandal goes to visit a friend in Hamburg, Germany, and then returns to the city of Gangneung in Korea, where she visits more friends and, over many cups of soju, reflects on her life and affairs. But though the film is mostly talk about love and sex and other matters of relationship, it's larded with puzzles and arresting details, including two (or possibly three) endings. The first section of the film concludes on a beach in Hamburg, where the camera pans away from the actress, Young-hee (played by Kim Min-hee), standing alone, and looks at her friends walking away. Then the camera pans back but Young-hee is gone, and when the camera pans farther, we see Young-hee being carried off, slung over the shoulder of a man. We don't know who the man is, but she and her friend had earlier been accosted by a man wanting to know the time of day; when they don't reply, he walks off in disgust. And later, walking through the park, they spot the man again and run away. Is Young-hee's apparent abductor the same man? We get no answer, and the screen turns black before the second part, in Korea, begins with Young-hee sitting in a movie theater, lingering for a while after the lights come up and the theater empties. After meeting with some friends, she moves into a hotel that overlooks the sea. On the balcony outside, a man seems to be washing the windows of her room, but he has no soap or water or sponge or squeegee, and keeps "washing" the same spots over and over. Neither she nor her friends seem to notice this man, who also appears later, again simply standing unnoticed on the balcony. Later, when her friends leave, she goes out to the beach where she lies down and falls asleep. She is wakened by a man who turns out to be a member of a film crew working with the director with whom she had the affair. Eventually, she meets the director again and they have a conversation at the dinner table, where he gives her a book that seems to have a special significance for them. But there's a cut and we see Young-hee again lying on the beach, where she is again awakened by a man who, as in the previous awakening scene, tells her it's dangerous. This time, she tells the man that she was just dreaming, walks off alone, and the film ends. How to assimilate these eccentric, enigmatic moments into the film as a whole, with its extended dialogues about relationships? Because of its talk about sex and love, On the Beach at Night Alone has been likened to Éric Rohmer's "Six Moral Tales" films and to Richard Linklater's Jesse and Céline trilogy. But it reminds me more of the skewed reality of Michelangelo Antonioni's films, such as L'Avventura (1960), which never answers the questions about Anna's disappearance, or Blow-Up (1966), which never solves the central murder, if there was indeed one. Is the mysterious man who carries off Young-hee or the one who lingers on her balcony just a projection of her frustrations? Or are we misguided in even asking such questions?