This
film is set during the 1992 LA Riots, but it is impossible not to hear echoes
of subsequent events, such as the unjust persecution of Chinatown’s Abacus Federal Savings Bank, the selective prosecution of NYPD officer Peter Liang,
and the still unsolved (and possible hate crime) assault on Rep. Grace Meng
(D-Queens)—provided you had heard of those news stories in the first place. In
each case, it was deemed socially and politically acceptable to scapegoat or
marginalize Asians. This was especially true of the grossly under-reported
crimes committed against the small proprietorships owned by Koreans and other
Asians in 1992. Twenty-five years later, their testimony is still often excluded
from the media narrative. Drawing on his family’s own experiences,
writer-director-lead actor Justin Chon tells the inspired-by-actual-events-story
of two Korean American brothers who will be blindsided by violent looters in Gook (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York.
Their
father’s shoe store is slowly dying, but Eli clings to it, like he holds onto
his anger. In contrast, Daniel yearns to leave the store to pursue his R&B
dreams, but he is too passive to directly challenge his brother. The store also
provides a direct link to eleven-year-old African American Kamilla, their
mascot and surrogate little sister. Years ago, her mother was shot dead inside
the store along with their father during an ill-fated hold-up attempt.
Before
the Rodney King verdict is even announced, Eli receives a beating from local
thugs. However, Daniel will eventually catch much worse when he is caught in
the wrong neighborhood, at the wrong time. Both brothers understand the verdict
is an ill omen, but they are too preoccupied with their own bickering to
recognize the storm brewing, until it is too late.
Chon
has screen intensity of a younger, saner Sean Penn that even shines through in
comedies, like the under-seen Seoul Searching.
There is a rawness and honesty to his performance that harkens back even
earlier, to the work of Brando and the Angry British young men. He is always a
livewire in the film, but his scenes with his real-life father Sang Chon (a
former child actor, who survived the 1992 lootings as a Greater LA store-owner)
crackle with electricity. Initially, Mr. Kim appears to be a cranky foil for
Eli and Kamilla, but he will have wisdom to offer during the crisis.
David
So nicely counterbalances Chon as Daniel. While he presents himself as a more
easygoing mensch, he is really just keeps his resentments quietly bottled up.
Simone Baker is also very good as Kamilla, but her character often feels more
like a symbol of inclusive martyrdom, transparently modeled on a widely-reported
victim of the riots.
Ante Cheng’s black-and-white cinematography is
stark and spartanly powerful. Yet, it also gives the film a timeless quality
that suddenly feels uncomfortably timely. There is a good reason Burkean
conservatives and classical liberals distrust the masses. When large groups of
people start following collective impulses, riots might break out, which could
hurt friends, foes, and unsuspecting bystanders alike. Chon emphasizes the
personal rather than the political, but it is clear the experiences of Korean
shopkeepers like his father still hurt twenty-five years later (the scathing
bluntness of the title should have been your first clue). Highly recommended, Gook opens this Friday (8/25) in New
York, at the Regal Union Square.
