Andres Baiz’s Spanish film, The Hidden Face, is starting to generate as many
international remakes as Oirol Paulo’s The Invisible Guest. At least
many of the subsequent Hidden Faces have tried to put their own spin on the
dark psychological themes. That is particularly true of the new Korean remake. The
love triangle relationship-dynamics get especially torturous in Kim Dae-woo’s The
Hidden Face, which releases this Tuesday on digital.
Seong-jin
might direct the orchestra, but his fiancée, cellist Soo-yeon, calls the shots,
along with her mother, the executive director, Hye-yeon. Everyday brings new emasculations,
until Soo-yeon impulsively flies off to Europe. At least that is what she told
him in the video she left behind.
Weirdly,
there has been no sign of her since then—no calls, no credit card usage. Despite
her imperiousness, Hye-yeon starts to worry. Nevertheless, she agrees Seong-jin
should find a temp replacement for her. Conveniently, Soo-yeon also left behind
a recommendation for Mi-joo. Years ago, they both studied cello together in the
very same house Soo-yeon just bought, to live with Seong-jin. At the time, Mi-joo
and her were quite close.
It turns out she and Seong-jin are also quite compatible. They both
share a fondness for the melancholy of Schubert (much like Martin Landau in Crimes
and Misdemeanors). Pretty soon, Seong-jin commences something like an
affair with Mi-joo, even though he still presumes Soo-yeon abandoned him.
Instead, Mi-joo locked her in the secret bunker behind the walls, where she can
see everything through the one-way mirrors, but she cannot be heard through the
thick glass and steel.
The
game-playing in this Hidden Face is even more morally bent than it
sounds. Frankly, it is a sign of progress that the film has not provoked boycott-fury
from the various professionally outraged alphabet groups for the way it depicts
certain sexual identities. Happily, we can all just relax and enjoy its
perverse, twisted soul. This is indeed a twisty and twisted film, but it will definitely
surprise viewers, perhaps even those who have seen the previous Hidden Faces.
It is a lot easier to close your eyes than to close your ears. Ironically,
in this case, Joo-young’s hearing aid finally represents an advantage. She has
so much underdog cred (working a blue-collar factory job, with her hearing impairment),
Joo-young looks like a natural “final girl” candidate. Regardless, finding her
semi-estranged sister will be her primary goal in Kim Soo-jin’s Noise,
which screens tonight as part of Scary Movies XIII.
Joo-young
briefly lived with Joo-hee, but she tired of her sibling’s erratic behavior, so
she moved out—right before things really got weird. According to the cops,
Joo-hee has been missing for weeks. Yet, as soon as Joo-young moves back in,
the crazy neighbor below complains of the constant noise coming from their empty
apartment. This noise-rage taps into reportedly common Korean complaints,
stemming from high population density and cheap concrete construction. Such inter-building
noise is less of an issue here in New York. That’s why we love our “pre-war”
buildings.
Indeed,
the brutalist apartment complex is rife with weird, disconcerting noises. Even
Joo-young can hear them when her hearing aid is turned on. Joo-hee’s boyfriend,
Ki-hoon, does not have that option, but he doesn’t understand the degree of the
audio distortion he will have to contend with when he offers to help Joo-young
find her sister.
Rather
cleverly, the FSLC paired Noise with the similarly audio-themed Rabbit Trap for their press screenings, but the public screenings fell on
different days. Maybe that is just as well, because the two films together
constitute an exhausting sensory overload. However, that also means both sound
teams did some incredibly potent work.
Kim
also cleverly capitalizes on Joo-young’s reliance on voice recognition apps and
her on-and-off hearing aid to cleverly build suspense. Yet, despite a vibe and
style clearly inspired by classic J-horror and K-horror, screenwriter Lee
Je-hui maintains a coyness whether the film is supernatural horror, or a
devious murder mystery of human origins and design. Either way, there are some
deeply unnerving moments, thanks in large measure to the sinister sound.
She is
the sort of greybeard you might work with at your company who knows where all
the bodies are buried. In her case, it is because she killed them. It is all
part of the job when you work for an assassination firm. The founder used to
refer to their work as “pest control,” but the new management takes a more
mercenary approach. Their clash of corporate cultures turns deadly in Min
Kyu-dong’s The Old Woman and the Knife, which opens this Friday in theaters.
Ryu was
a hired killer, but he had a keen sense of right and wrong. He and his wife took
the woman he would dub “Nails,” which eventually evolved into “Hornclaw,” into
their home when they found her near-dead on the street. He subsequently inducted
her into his real business when—in self-defense—she shows an aptitude for it.
Over
the years, Hornclaw became a folk legend among assassins, even after her mentor’s
spectacularly bloody demise. She is still active, but the assignments aren’t
what they used to be. From what she can see, the firm now mostly passes on the
cases she and Ryu specialized in, opting for better paying but more ethically
questionable gigs.
Unfortunately,
Hornclaw’s age starts to catch up with her—almost fatally. Frankly, she would
not have been a goner had Kang, a widower veterinarian, not taken the unconscious
hit-lady back to his animal clinic for emergency treatment. In Hornclaw’s
world, no good deed goes unpunished, especially if it leaves witnesses, but she
is tired of compromising her principles. She is also already tired of “Bullfight”
the reckless, borderline psychotic new assassin her boss recruited.
This is
exactly the sort of nifty Korean thriller that Hollywood might option to
remake, but would inevitably foul-up. Somehow, it manages to be simultaneously
gritty and slick. Most of all, it is terrific showcase for veteran thesp Lee
Hye-young as the Eastwoodesque Hornclaw. Her performance serves as a thoughtful
contemplation on aging and all the bad karma that accrues over a lifetime.
He is
an exorcist who relies on his bare fists. When the devil needs a good
butt-kicking, who you gonna call? Don Lee (Ma Dong-seok), that’s who. Technically,
Bow’s associate Sharon does all the spiritual casting out of demons, but he is
the one who holds off the hordes of satanic mortal followers. Frighteningly,
business is brisk in Lim Dae-hee’s Holy Night: Demon Hunters, which
opens Friday in theaters.
Ominously,
the mortal “Worshippers” have recently sacrificed quite a few innocents under
the direction of the shadowy “Archbishop.” Clearly, they are preparing
something big. Bow fears it involves the unseen Joseph (seriously guys?), his
fellow orphan, who was also “blessed” with elevated mojo, but gave himself over
to the evil one.
Determined
to avenge the nuns and orphans Joseph murdered, Bow dedicated his life to
demon-fighting, with the help of his associates, Sharon and Kim Gun, two
intended sacrifices he rescued. Sharon has the ability to operate on higher spiritual
planes, but each exorcism takes a painful toll on her, physically and
emotionally.
Young
Eun-soo is an especially difficult case. She does not lack for good medical
care, since her guardian older sister Jung-won is a neuro-psychiatrist.
However, being a sensitive orphan makes Eun-soo particularly vulnerable to
possession. In fact, the demon has dug in so deeply, Bow’s team must return to
the scene of the crime, the sisters’ new home, where something very sinister is
going on.
It
could very well be that Lim and Lee learned an important lesson from Schwarzenegger’s
only horror movie, End of Days. It is not a film that has a lot of haters,
but by the same token, few really embraced it either. For his fans, it just
doesn’t feel like a Schwarzenegger movie. In contrast, Holy Night is a
Don Lee movie, through and through. We often see him hitting Worshippers so
hard they literally fly through the air. He dishes out to the satanists like
they are gangsters in his Beast Cop/Roundup franchise.
Lee
Kang-su is a broker who is about to go bust. He is not a M&A guy. He acts
as a go-between negotiating cooperative agreements for criminals who agree to
snitch. It turns out snitching is dangerous business, especially when you work
with a ruthless opportunist like prosecutor Ku Gwan-hee. Conveniently, Ku has made
other enemies who might help Lee take him down in Hwang Byeong-gug’s Yadang:
The Snitch, which opens Friday in New York.
Initially,
Lee was drugged by his passenger and left literally holding the bag (full of
drugs). Ku could tell he was not a kingpin, so he recruited him to inform on
the drug-trafficking gang operating out of his prison. It worked out so well,
Ku convinces him to become a professional Yadang after his release. Lee is not
a lawyer, but he can broker dodgy deals that might present ethical challenges
for a halfway reputable attorney.
Of
course, he always structures the deal so that Ku comes out on top. In the process,
Ku regularly scoops up cases from honest Det. Oh Sang-jae (a.k.a. “The Jade
Emperor”). That rarely serves the interests of justice, but it is great for Ku’s
interests. When Jo Hun, the leading presidential candidate’s son is arrested
during a major drug bust, Ku cuts lucrative deal to protect him, but he
sacrifices Lee and Oh in the process. Unfortunately, that means Det. Oh cannot
intercede on behalf of his source, Uhm Su-jin, a formerly rising starlet
terrorized by Jo Hun.
During
the subsequent months, Lee recovers from the serious injuries and meth dosing
inflicted on him by Yeom, the drug lord they were supposed to bust. Oh defends
himself in court against specious corruption charges, while Uhm’s career
implodes. Consequently, they all want revenge against Ku, Yeom, and Jo Hun.
Evidently,
Yadangs are a real thing in South Korea—a really sleazy thing. You could call The
Wolf of Wall Street for Yadang “cooperation” brokers. It is also a cynical
but consistently grabby payback thriller, thanks to the three co-lead
performances. Kang Ha-neul is intriguingly slippery as Lee. It is a darkly
complex portrayal that emphasizes his compromised nature, despite his innocent
beginnings. Yoo Hae-jin (who often provides the schticky comic relief) gives
one of his career-best performances as the calculating prosecutor. Park
Hae-joon is also rock-solid as the driven Det. Oh.

Chang-soo’s
garden is nothing like the one Frances Hodgson Burnett described. Frankly, it really
is not such a big plot point anyway. There is an evil influence that permeates
the entire country house andsurrounding grounds So-hee inherited from her late
husband. He secretly designed it to be her dream home, right down to the
titular flower patch, but something went very wrong in Ku Born’s Korean horror
film, Spring Garden, which is currently available on American Airlines
international flights.
Tragically
and inexplicably, Chang-soo committed suicide, with no apparent explanation.
Naturally, his family blames So-hee, who was just as baffled. She is even more
surprised to suddenly inherit her the fabulous country home he secretly designed
for her, right down to the “Spring Garden.” However, bad things happen there,
as viewers know from the prologue. Of course, the teenagers suffering from the
terrible misadventure were also there with nasty intentions.
Eventually,
So-hee starts connecting the dots between Chang-soo and the delinquents. However,
In-kyeom is still way ahead of her. He is the creepy guy who always skulks
around her house. He knows a lot about bad mojo. The question is whether he is
fighting it or causing it—or maybe a little of both.
Admittedly,
Spring Garden is a fairly convention K-horror film, but it has yet to
have significant North American screenings, beyond its in-flight distribution
(seriously, you never know what treasures you might find on American
international flights). It was inspired by Neulbom Garden, which is allegedly
one of Korea’s three most haunted locations (along with Gonjiam Asylum), but
the circumstances of Baek Yool-seo’s narrative are very different than the
reported Neulbom lore.
There
is no reason for this Korean horror movie to adversely affect organ donation. Donors
face no risks (since they are dead already). Unfortunately, this recipient did
not reject the heart from a demon-possessed girl. It turns out the invasive
demon was transferred right along with it in Hyun Moon-sub’s Devils Stay,
which releases tomorrow on VOD and home video.
Poor
little Cha So-mi will be a nasty case of demon possession. Father Ban ought to
know. He has experienced some bad ones, including his own. That is what
motivated him to become an exorcist. He thought he had successfully cast out her
demon, but just as the young girl started to calm, she suddenly died.
Her
traditional three-day funeral will be particularly hard, because the demon
still inside her body starts tormenting the mourners, especially her father,
Cha Seung-do. He is also not inclined to accept anymore of Father Ban’s help,
even though he is obviously in over his head. Even he will admit as much when
he discovers he was set up by a mysterious satanic cultist, when he was cutting
corners to arrange So-mi’s organ donor heart.
In fact,
Devils Stay turns rather zeitgeisty when the shadowy satanist turns out
to be Russian (in light of South Korea’s concern regarding North Korea supplying
troops and arms to Russia, for their brutal war in Ukraine). The demonic
particulars are also especially sinister.
Indeed,
Devils Stay is an insidiously effective demonic horror film that bends
(if not breaks) the template in several places. It is tense and scary—and good
gosh, do we ever feel bad for the poor beleaguered Cha family.
Catholic
clergy are tough in general, but sometimes nuns are even fiercer than priests,
as some Catholic school alumni’s knuckles might attest. In this case, Sister
Giunia is far and away the most capable expeller of demons the Church currently
has in Korea, but since she is not even ordained yet, she cannot perform
exorcisms. Unfortunately, the priest currently treating a possessed little boy
believes demonic control is a metaphor and possibly a sign of mental illness.
Of course, he learns better through horrific experience in Kwon Hyeok-jae’s Dark
Nuns, which releases this Friday in theaters.
Sister
Giunia, originally known as Kang Sung-ae, learned all about exorcisms from
Fathers Kim Bum-shin and Choi Joon-ho, the heroes of Jang Jae-hyun’s The Priests (and his short 12th Assistant Deacon which it was
expanded from). Consequently, she is considered kind of spooky, so some in the
Church call her the “Dark Nun.” Regardless, two different priests completely
botched the sanctioned exorcism of young Hee-joon. She stepped saving their
necks (and most likely souls), but the demon retreated deep within the boy, biding
its time, while imprisoning its host in a feverish, semi-conscious state.
Father
Paolo, who is also a medical doctor, insists Hee-joon only needed aggressive
drug therapy, but maybe it is too late, since the Church wasted so much time on
hocus pocus. He points to Sister Michaela as an example of what he means, since
he supposedly “cured” her of her visions when she was a teen. However, all the
bad things that happen around the boy quickly convince Sister Michaela that
Sister Guinia knows her demonic stuff.
Unfortunately,
the Church refuses to sanction further exorcisms, so the nuns must turn to the
Shamanistic community for back-up. Awkwardly, none of the fully trained shaman
are available, because they have all been engaged to cleanse the karma of
political candidates before the upcoming election. (It would be an
understatement to describe Sister Giunia as unimpressed.)
Aside
from the mixing of Catholic and shamanist forces, the plot points in Dark
Nuns do not radically depart from many other demonic possession films.
Nevertheless, the execution is tight, tense, and sometimes even terrifying.
Arguably, the final twenty minutes or so constitute a masterclass in horror
movie suspense.
Sister
Giunia also emerges as quite a remarkable character, sort of like a cloistered
Van Helsing, who happens to be doctrinally conservative yet spiritually
flexible enough to wield tarot cards as a weapon and accept considerable
elements of shamanism. She has seen horrors, that’s for sure, but Song
Hye-kyo’s steely performance inspires considence.
Harbin is the largest city in Northeastern China, but in the early 1900s, it
was as Russian as Moscow. Back then, it was a major hub on the Russian-owned
Chinese Eastern Railway, linking Vladivostok to Port Arthur. For the Korean
resistance army, it was an advantageous area to operate, because the Imperial
Japanese army had to respect the authority of the Russian government. For a
future national hero in need of redemption, a Japanese state visit represents
an opportunity to strike a blow for independence in Woo Min-ho’s Harbin,
which opens Friday in theaters.
Anh
Jung-geun fought and bled to liberate Korea. Unfortunately, as the film opens,
he faces disgrace for allowing a potentially hard-fought victory to turn into a
bitter defeat. The General learns the hard way that when your enemy offers to
commit Seppuku, you ought to let him do so. Instead, Anh showed Maj. Tatsuo Mori mercy,
by disarming and releasing him under the current international laws of warfare.
Mori repaid his kindness by wiping out Anh’s army with artillery.
Frankly,
most of the resistance army’s ruling council consider Anh’s conduct foolish,
bordering on outright treason. Yet, sufficient confidence remains in his
loyalty to assign him a possibly game-changing mission that holds little chance
of survival. Anh will lead a team tasked with assassinating Ito Hirobumi, the
former Japanese Prime Minister and Resident General of Korea, who continues to
act as the behind-the-scenes power broker, while he makes an official
diplomatic visit to Harbin.
Yet,
Anh’s misfortunes continue, when he is separated from traveling partners, Kim
Sang-hyun (probably his staunchest defender) and Woo Deok-sun (his fiercest
critic) on the train to Harbin. When they eventual reunite in the future
Chinese Russian city, it will become clear one of them has been turned by Mori.
Compared
to the similarly themed Assassination, Harbin is much more
cerebral and considerably slower in pace. However, its intrigue definitely
intrigues. In fact, Woo Min-ho and co-screenwriter Kim Min-seung address themes
of mercy and redemption in a surprisingly thoughtful manner.
Still,
Woo executes several warfighting scenes with brutal realism. In fact, the sight
of Anh staggering along the Tumen River will likely become the defining image
of Harbin, thanks to striking way cinematographer Hong Kyung-pyo frames
these sequences. Nevertheless, Woo concentrates on recreating the paranoia and
feelings of outraged impudence that tormented the underground resistance.
Hong Sang-soo’s films with French actress Isabelle Huppert have all arisen
out of chance meetings and commenced without finished scripts. For their latest
film, it really shows. Hong’s films are always lightweight, but this one could
blow away with a gentle breeze. The film follows a French tutor, who like the director,
somehow gets away with never preparing for her students in Hong’s A Traveler’s
Needs, which just opened in additional cities.
Iris
supposedly teaches French by prodding her students to rcall their deepest emotional
memories and then translating them into French and recording them on audio cassettes
for them to listen to. This way, their lessons will resonate for them, unlike
that rote Dick-and-Jane stuff.
Okay,
maybe. Not all of her clients are convinced, but her loyal student Isong buys
in. She obediently discusses the thoughts that went through her head while
playing piano (during which time, Iris boorishly steps outside for a smoke).
Then, she refers her tutor to a married couple she knows.
Wonju
clearly suspects Iris is a lazy scammer, but her husband Haesoon is impressed
by her ability drink makgeolli without any signs of inebriation. Eventually,
Wonju plays guitar, prompting a conversation almost identical to the one Iris
had with Isong, which constitutes the film’s clearest manifestation of Hong’s
regular doubling or repeating motif.
Then
Iris returns home to spend time with her much younger roommate-slash-ambiguous
boyfriend, Inguk, until his mother (who is about her age) pops in unexpectedly.
Then, she is off like a rocket, leaving him to mother’s third-degree.
Honestly,
Traveler’s Needs must be Hong’s dullest film to-date, which is saying
something. Even by his generous standards, it is aimless in direction and decidedly
sleight. Even Huppert, his buddy at Cannes, appears to struggle with her halting,
minimalist dialogue. Hong’s regular player, Kwon Hae-hyo, just falls back on tried-and-true
Hong-isms, mostly by drinking like a fish. There is simply no meat on his bony screenplay
for them to sink their teeth into. Only Cho Yunhee successfully gets into any
sort of rhythm as Inguk’s mom, who really is quite a formidable interrogator.
Somnologists (sleep doctors) probably take issue with The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,
but the silent German Expressionist classic launched a tradition of some pretty
cool sleep-walking horror movies. With a baby on the way, Jung Soo-jin and her
husband Hyun-soo could use all the rest they can get. Unfortunately, his sleepwalking
grows so disruptive, he reluctantly agrees to consult a somnologist. Yet, she soon
suspects something more supernatural in Jason Yu’s Sleep, which releases
today in theaters and on VOD.
It
starts with some cryptic words spoken in Hyun-soo’s sleep: “someone’s inside.”
Then he wakes up bleeding from a bout of compulsive facial scratching. Before
long, Soo-jin finds him sleepwalking through the apartment, often in ways that
risk considerable harm to himself or others.
Suddenly,
she realizes their annoying down-stairs neighbor’s noise complaints might be
valid and relevant. She also stops dismissing her mother’s talk of sigils and
shamans. In fact, Soo-jin starts researching supernatural causes in earnest. Not
surprisingly, the combined pressure of recent motherhood and her deep dive into
the occult takes its toll. Nevertheless, she remains committed to Hyun-soo.
In
fact, Sleep is a rarity among horror films, which genuinely respects the
for-better-or-for-worse vows. Indeed, the film is largely all about how two
main characters act accordingly, under extreme conditions. As Soo-jin and
Hyun-soo, Jung Yu-min and Lee Sun-kyun truly act like a couple who share
considerable history together, as well as the in-jokes and shorthand references
that come with it. The poignancy of their chemistry further elevates with the
realization Sleep represents one of the final films of the late Lee,
whom many friends and colleagues believe was recklessly hounded to his death by
the police and the tabloid press.
He is known as Korea’s Robin Hood, but for years, he was hiding in Japan. He
appeared in the nation’s first animated feature, which was sufficiently popular
to earn a sequel. Yet this 1967 film was long considered lost, until a print
was recently discovered in a Japanese archive. Fully restored with the original
Korean audio track and reconstructed Korean credits, Shin Dong-heon’s The
Story of Hong Gil-Dong, premieres Thursday on OVID.tv.
Like
most heroes Hong had greatest thrust upon him when his father, a wealthy official,
heaved him out of his house. Unfortunately, Hong was not, strictly speaking,
legitimate, since his mother was a maid. Despite his father’s affection, the
lady of the house conspired against him. Then she ordered his murder, but her would-be
assassin is no match for his strength and skills.
Next,
Hong successfully frees an innocent man for a corrupt Magistrate’s army.
However, by convincing the local peasantry to reclaim their unjustly
appropriated property, he makes their lives even worse after he moves on. Of
course, the villain immediately reverts to his evil ways. Alas, our hero is
still a bit naĂŻve and rather distracted when returning the tortured peasant to
his pretty daughter, Gopdan.
Hong
also picks up a sidekick, Chadol Bawi, a Dickensian orphan whose father was
executed by the Magistrate. Despite his tragic circumstances, the young boy
serves as the film’s comic relief. Nevertheless, they both seek the secrets of
Master Baekwun, a reclusive mystical swordsman, anticipating their final showdown
with the Magistrate.
In
terms of themes and style, Hong Gil-Dong is not so very different from
Isao Takahata’s Horus, Prince of the Sun, which rather makes sense,
since they were produced in the same year. Visually, the Korean film is not
quite as vividly rendered, but it is also very definitely a young hero’s journey.
The Korean film might even be richer archetypally, incorporating a witch-fox
spirit, a band of merry outlaws, and a tiger who repays a debt to Hong, after
he rescues her cub. Eventually, Hong even rides into battle on a cloud, like
Aladdin on his carpet.
They might be moonshining siblings, but Joo Je-song and his two half-brothers
are no Dukes of Hazard. For one thing, there latest batch is legitimately
lethal and racking up a body-count among their regular customers. They try to
retrieve the bad brew, but that takes them to a small provincial town where a
doomsday religious cult has its own homicidal ideas in Hwang Wook’s Mash
Ville, which screened during the 2024 Fantasia International Film Festival.
The
film’s early rhythms are somewhat unsteady, like the shambling of a stoner
zombie. Eventually, all these odd characters will come together in a small town
that is about to become a ghost town. Fortunately, Joo’s half-bro’s were drunk
on someone else’s product when he walked in on them, but their now deceased
friend was pounding their Moonlight Whiskey. Obviously, they need to recall
their bad batch, so they carjack Ms. Jeong.
At
least she had the good sense to decline the Moonlight Whiskey the bartender
pushed on her, during her latest bout of binge drinking. She got so drunk she
forgot to pick up a corpse dummy for her demanding producer. “Fortunately,” a
random woman decided to climb into her trunk, where she apparently died. The
producer is thrilled by the corpse’s lifelike qualities, but she is freaking
out trying to figure out what to do with it next.
Joo
and the Bros maybe solve her problem when they carjack her. They need to get to
the small town where they shipped their deadly stock. Meanwhile, a pair of
religious fanatics are killing townsfolk one by one, until they have a dozen
corpses, but not just any twelve. They need to have one that was born in each
calendar month of the year.
That
is the over-simplified version. Hwang and co-screenwriter Lim Dong-min have a
whole lot of weirdness going on in this film. A lot of it is amusing in a “huh,
wha…” kind of way. However, there are also times when it is just a lot.
Mooyoung High could use a substitute like Tom Berenger (or Treat Williams in the
sequels). Instead, it gets So Si-min, a former contender in Olympic
butt-kicking, as a probationary teacher. She might be enough to restore order
and decency in Park Jin-pyo’s Brave Citizen, which screened at the 2024 Fantasia International Film Festival.
As
a one-year “contract teacher,” So is constantly told to stay out of trouble if
she wants to be hired as a permanent faculty member. That means looking the
other way when Han Su-kang bullies his fellow students. As she quickly figures
out, Han really runs the school, thanks to his powerful and litigious parents.
Frankly, So only has her current position (ironically teaching ethics) because
Han drove her predecessor to commit suicide.
So
tries to look the other way, because she wants a permanent posting. She is
deeply in debt due to her deadbeat father, So Young-taek, who was also her
coach. However, she cannot ignore the savage bullying of Go Jin-hyung, who is
told to take it and like it, or Han and his running mates will kill his street
vendor grandmother. So refuses to stomach such injustice, so she dons a cat
mask and starts anonymously administering frontier justice when Han tries to torment
victims off-campus.
Brave
Citizen could
breakout in America if marketed correctly. If you believe the premise of a politically-connected
bully wouldn’t resonate here, think again. Could Jewish students relate after
enduring genocidal threats and harassment on campus, while university
administrators did nothing to discipline the bullying “protesters?” How about the
owners of small businesses that were looted during the 2020 riots, as the media
cheered them on and big city DAs refused to prosecute? As a result, there are a
lot of Americans who feel exactly like students at Mooyoung, who will applaud
So.
If you want to make something sound scary and evil, call it a project, like
the Blair Witch Project, Colossus: the Forbin Project, or the
1619 Project. This project is also similarly sinister. It should have been
called the “Cujo Project.” Any genre fan could have warned these government
researchers that mutating dogs into assassins was a really bad idea, but they
did it anyway. Unfortunately for Cha Jung-won, the dogs of war slip loose on
the airport bridge he and his daughter find themselves trapped on in Kim
Tae-gon’s Project Silence, which opens today in theaters.
Even
though he is the deputy intelligence director in the current administration, Cha
had no knowledge of Project Silence, until he gets stuck in the middle of it.
Due to several Rube Goldberg-esque pile-ups, traffic on the bridge is blocked
in both directions. Inconveniently, the super-secret military transport
carrying the killer canines is part of the wreckage, which you know, lets the
dogs out.
Initially,
Cha believes he can coordinate a rescue operation from the ground, with the
help of his boss, Jung Hyun-baek, the intelligence director, who happens to be
their party’s presidential nominee. However, he eventually figures out what the
rest of us knew from the start. Jung knew about Project Silence and he wants to
bury the truth on the bridge.
Obviously,
Project Silence cannibalizes elements from many other films. In some ways,
it is Universal Soldier for dogs. It is also very a frustratingly dark
film, not in terms of tone, but with respects to the actual lighting.
However,
it is cool, in a decidedly bittersweet way, to see the late Lee Sun-kyun playing
a morally complex action hero. He is rock-solid as Cha, but any fan of action
movies or thrillers should catch out his brilliantly funny work in A Hard Day.
Even though Hong Sang-soo is a film director, he seems to believe actors are the
dullest people in the world. Once again, he apparently sets out to prove it
with his latest film. Supposedly, this is a film about coincidence, but the not
so ironic happenstances are weak and tangential in Hong’s In Our Day,
which is now playing in New York.
Sang-won
is an actress, who is crashing with her friend Jung-soo and Jung-soo’s cat Us, now
that she has returned to Korea after a long absence. Hong Uiju is a poet who
lives alone, since the death of his cat. That is really a shame for the poet
and the audience, because Us is probably the most interesting character in the
film.
Today,
both will be visited by aspiring thesps, who supposedly want to ask them big
meaningful questions. However, when Ji-soo and Jae-won try to get out the
words, they sound pretentious and inarticulate. Sang-won and Uiju also eat ramen
with red chili paste. Yes, that is a big deal in this film. Perhaps you can
understand why Us eventually runs away from home.
Maybe
Hong was trying to recapture the inspiration of his best films, Hill of Freedom, Yourself and Yours, and Right Now, Wrong Then, which
slyly riffed on doubling motifs, while employing hip bifurcated structures. If
so, he was really forcing it. Unfortunately, his shallow and annoying characters
need even more work than the skeletal narrative.
Frankly,
In Our Day feels more like an improv workshop than a proper film.
Perhaps the only memorable dialogue comes when Sang-won explains to her cousin
Ji-soo how she never felt she ever gave an honest performance, because she knew
her directors always wanted a predictably safe canned response. Kim Min-hee (often
referred to as Hong’s “muse”) delivers this pseudo-monologue with such earnestness,
perhaps it should tell the director something.
Feng Shui is one of those things you can’t help believing in when its bad. At
this secluded grave site, it is really, really awful. A shaman, a geomancer,
and their crony-partners (walk into a bar and then) rather ill-advisedly
disinter the remains, but that will be a profound mistake in
director-screenwriter Jang Jae-hyun’s Exhuma, which opens tomorrow in
theaters.
Something
is tormenting the latest infant scion if a wealthy Korean-American family. Apparently,
it recently finished off the father’s older bother and has moved on to the
firstborn of the next generation. At least that is what Hwa-rim sensed. She is
the shaman recruited by the Korean wing of the family. It turns out the great-grandfather
is the likely supernatural culprit, but she will need the help of a veteran
geomancer, like crusty old Kim Sang-deuk, to fight him.
Lately,
Kim and his undertaker-sidekick Ko Young-geun have been scraping out a living
by selling Feng Shui-vetted grave-sites, but he knows his stuff. According to
the boy’s father, the mean old man was buried in an unmarked grave on eerie-looking
mountain, on the advice of a dubious Japanese monk. Frankly, Kim never scouted
there, because the vibes are so bad. However, Hwa-kim and her assistant/vessel
Bong-gil are convinced the four can
perform a cleansing ritual and then whisk the body away for cremation, but, of
course, it will not be so easy.
Along
with Na Hong-jin’s The Wailing, Exhuma proves Korean Shamanic
horror can be as potent as Catholic demonic horror. Exhuma is not quite
as unhinged as Na’s film, but it has a quite slow-building eeriness that is
distinctive. There are no jump scares, just loads of atmosphere and creepy
lore.
It was a time of censorship, but not necessarily Puritanism. Director Kim
Yeol is a 1970s Korean filmmaker was a long stretch of lurid sexual potboilers
under his belt. His first film was critically acclaimed, but many suspect it
was greatly shaped by his mentor, Director Shin, who died during its
production. He now has a vision for how to make his latest film a masterpiece,
but neither his studio boss nor the censors want to let him recall the cast for
reshoots. He will just have to work around them in Kim Jee-won’s Cobweb,
which releases tomorrow in theaters and on VOD.
Director
Kim is absolutely not based Kim Ki-young, the late cult filmmaker best known
for the original The Housemaid, as his heirs and the producers of Cobweb
clearly established through an arbitration agreement. No, this “Director
Kim” has been grinding out trashy thrillers since his tragic debut made a
notorious splash. After wrapping his latest movie, also titled Cobweb,
he literally has a flash of inspiration, prompting him to rewrite most of the
second half.
President
Baek, the studio boss and Director Shin’s widow, does not want the additional
expenses and the state censors will not approve his new pages, because they are
weird, especially the ending (which is true). However, Shin Mi-do, Director
Shin’s niece and the studio finance chief, recognizes the brilliance of his
revisions. She also has an in with the head of the censorship office, so she
approves his reshoots while her aunt is out of the country on business. Since
they are revising extensively, the one promised day of reshoots will not be
sufficient, so Mi-do literally locks cast and crew inside the soundstage. Chaos
and tension ensue.
Cobweb
is
sort of like Noises Off with the pressure of state censors looking over
everyone’s shoulders. The manic farcical action is a bit of throwback to Kim
Jee-woon’s zany The Good, the Bad, the Weird, from the filmmaker better
known for darker horror and thrillers like I Saw the Devil, The Age of Shadows, and Dr. Brain. Some of the supporting characters are maybe
a bit too wacky, like the method actor playing a detective, who pretends to
investigate Director Kim, to stay in character. However, the way the
film-with-the-film evolves and takes on greater significance as we learn
Director Kim’s backstory is quite clever.
In
fact, the black-and-white retro-horror-looking scenes from the fictional film
are wonderfully stylish and affectionately droll. Director Kim’s “weird ending”
lives up to its promise. Kim Jee-won and cinematographer Kim Ji-yong stage some
incredible sequences, like Director Kim’s long climatic tracking shot, which we
see from an incredibly messy behind-the-scenes perspective and as a finished
product. In fact, their use of the sealed soundstage and its impressively
designed sets is consistently inventive.
That phrase "return to the future” sure sounds like you could build a
successful science fiction franchise around it, right? In fact, the first Alienoid
was an entertainingly wild ride, incorporating superheroes, magic, time
travel, and alien invasions. Like any aspiring franchise, it ended with a major
cliffhanger, but nobody minded, because everything that led up to it was so
cool. We will pick back up with Earth’s ragtag but superpowered defenders in 14th
Century Korea, where they must obtain the “Divine Sword” to save the
present-day Earth in Choi Dong-hoon’s Alienoid: Return to the Future,
which opens this Friday in theaters.
To
save Earth in the future, the AI “Thunder” must regroup with little Ean in the
past. It is sort of like “going home” for the girl, because Thunder and his humanoid
counterpart “Guard” found her orphaned there some 600 years ago, while they
were chasing a renegade time-traveling alien criminal.
You
might want to revisit the review for the first film, other reviews, its wiki
page, and any other resource you can think of, because there was a lot going
on. Long story short, alien criminals have been imprisoned inside Earthlings.
Ususually, neither the host or the captive are aware of the situation, but when
the alien “wakens,” oh boy, is there ever trouble.
Back
in our time, there is a full-scale alien uprising going on. They plan to takeover
Earth by poisoning our atmosphere. The only off-switch is the Divine Sword that
Ean is looking for in the past. She has grown up to be the mysterious “Girl Who
Shoots Thunder,” who made such an impression on Murak, a clumsy but powerful
Taoist Dosa magician.
In
the first film, the modern-day scenes worked a lot better than those in the
past, largely because of the dopiness of Murak and the shtickiness of Heug-seol
and Cheong-woon, a couple of mage-grifters, who start out as Murak’s rivals,
but become his allies. Fortunately, they will find two new allies, the Satoichi-like
swordsman Nong-pa in the past, and his future descendant, Min Gae-in, a customs
service investigator, who can bust the aliens for not paying their tariffs.
The
first Alienoid was probably the best superhero movie of the last
five-years, because it was a fresh and original alternative to the stale Marvel
and DC worlds. Return to the Future is still fun, but it often feels
like a Marvel movie, because it mostly consists of costumed characters fighting
each other in a one crazy, confusing set piece after another.
So-called "Kopinos" are embarrassing phenomenon for South Korea, because the
half-Korean half-Filipino orphans are mostly the products of sex tourism to the
Philippines, who receive no financial support from their deadbeat dads. Marco
Han’s mother might be something of an exception (the nature of his conception
is left diplomatically vague), but they lived in similar poverty. When his
mother falls sick, Han starts looking for his father, whose employees happen to
be looking for him too in director-screenwriter Park Hoon-jung’s The Childe (with
its Olde English “e”), which releases Tuesday on BluRay.
As
a boxer, Han is used to hard knocks, but his mother’s decline is a bitter pill to
swallow. It seems too good to be true when his birth-father’s sleazy lawyer suddenly
turns up, offering to take him to Korea—because, of course, it is. Weirdly, a
mystery man with a sickly cough seems to be shadowing them, which, indeed, he
is.
Things
get a bit hectic once he arrives in Korea. For reasons he does not understand.
Coughing Man (who refers to himself as “the Expert” or “Gwigongja,” the literal
translation being “Nobleman”) is out to get Han, just like his entitled half-brother
Han Yi, as well as Yoon-ju, a femme fatale assassin working for a rival family
faction. In fact, the first half of the film does not make much sense, because
the three villains seem to be squabbling over who gets to kill poor, clueless
Marco.
However,
Park really flips the switch in the second half. Everyone’s cynical motivation
suddenly becomes crystal clear and it all culminates in a massively violent,
but extremely crowd-pleasing action showdown.