Oscar Contender: Minari

For many striving immigrants nothing says “promised land” like land itself. The ambition to own his own farm motivates a Korean immigrant to uproot his wife and American-born children from California to Arkansas. Unfortunately, he might just know enough about farming to fall too deeply in debt in Lee Isaac Chung’s Minari, a widely acknowledged Oscar contender, which releases this Friday in actual theaters.

Even by California’s high standards, Jacob is great at chick sexing. That is the process of quickly determining the gender of newborn chicks, so the males can be “disposed of.” His wife Monica is only adequate by Arkansas standards, but her husband does not intend for them to work in the poultry plant for long. In addition to their new mobile home on blocks, he bought a modest stretch of farmland to raise crops. Although he was initially considering traditional Midwest staples, he soon shifts his plan to cultivate Korean vegetables for the Korean groceries springing up in the Southern Midwest in the early 1980s.

Jacob has a profound desire to build something of his own. Monica would prefer to simply work hard, avoid taking risks, and save their money for their children (and the Church). The resulting disagreement grows increasingly pronounced when Jacob’s efforts are repeatedly plagued by bad luck. It gets so bad, Paul, their Evangelical farm hand and new family friend, convinces them to allow him to perform an exorcism. Seven-year-old David is mostly oblivious to the tension between his parents, but his sister Anne is just old enough to pick up on it. However, day-to-day, they are more concerned with negotiating the prickly foibles of Soonja, the grandmother they never met, until she arrived to help take care of them in Arkansas. It is she who has the foresight to plant a small patch of minari, the spicy Korean herb that grows best under wild conditions.

Minari is a deeply touching film that is truly inclusive. While obviously an immigrant’s film, it is also sympathetic to the poor, white Ozark community in which Jacob’s family finds itself. Paul, played with deep humanity and humility by Will Paton (who really ought to be in the Oscar talk as well) is never caricatured or demonized for his extreme expressions of his faith (he literally carries a wooden cross on his back every Sunday). Instead, he is presented as a devout believer, who does his best to live up to the principles of Christianity.

On the other hand, the Oscar buzz for Youn Yuh-jung is well-placed, totally deserved, and arguably overdue. Anyone who follows Korean film will recognize her from her surprisingly edgy work in films like Bacchus Lady and The Housemaid. Once again, she steals scene after scene as the no-nonsense but loving grandmother.

NYAFF ’16: The Bacchus Lady

Well, this is interesting product placement. Those bottles of Bacchus So-young offers to lonely old men in the park are sort of like Red Bull. The implication is clear. If they go off with her, they should get their energy up, so to speak. It is a tough racket for a senior citizen, but So-young’s bills won’t pay themselves in E J-yong’s Bacchus Lady (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 New York Asian Film Festival.

Evidently, elder prostitution is kind of a thing in Korea, but nobody besides E J-yong talks about it. So-young (the English double meaning of her name is intentional) only takes on clients of similarly advanced years. It is not much of a living, but at least her transsexual landlord and the cashier at the hourly no-tell motel are patient. They will have to be during the week she recuperates from the old sailors’ disease. Somehow she also manages to pick up a kid at the doctor’s office.

Poor lost Min-ho is the love child of a Filipina mother and a rich deadbeat Korean doctor. When her confrontation turns non-lethally violent, So-young takes in the confused boy, hiding him from the cops. Of course, her life seems somewhat strange to the innocent lad, but they soon warm to each other. Meanwhile, So-young’s career takes an Arsenic & Old Lace detour when several old clients request her help arranging final exits.

Sounds like a load of laughs, right? Yet, somehow Youn Yuh-jung, one of the leading lights of Korean cinema keeps things relatively light and totally dignified. She covers the full gamut, but her So-young is always tough. Frankly, if this were an American film, everyone would be scrambling to give Youn awards, because it is both a tragic and empowering performance, in a film that ticks so many social issue boxes.

Some of those secondary themes are more potent than other. Arguably, the euthanasia subplot feels a little shopworn, following in the depressing footsteps of Grace Quigley, Honey, and The Farewell Party. However, the camaraderie So-young shares with her former clients is rather intriguing.

Bacchus Lady is nice film that is considerably elevated by Grand Dame Youn’s gritty, gutsy, and graceful performance. There are not a lot of surprises waiting to be sprung on the audience, but there are moments that will stick with you. Respectfully recommended, The Bacchus Lady screens this Friday (7/1) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYAFF.

NYFF ’14: Hill of Freedom

Why would a visitor from Japan spend so much time in Korean at a Japanese coffee shop? He is a Hong Sang-soo character, which explains a lot. As it happens, he is not in Korea to see the sights. He has come to woe back an ex-girlfriend. Unfortunately, she was not waiting to be wooed in Hong’s Hill of Freedom (trailer here), one of the Main Slate selections of the 52^nd New York Film Festival.

Two years after Kwon dumped him, Mori has returned to Korea on spec, hoping to win back his former language school colleague. Finding her out of town left him at loose ends. Despite his intentions, Mori kind of-sort of gets involved with the characters at his Bukchon guest house and the Hill of Freedom coffee shop across the street from Kwon’s apartment. He even has a halting romance with Young-sun, the coffee shop manager. He will explain to Kwon just how he spent his time in Seoul in a series of letters he leaves for her at their old school. However, after dropping the untidy bundle, Kwon will read and the audience will see Mori’s story out of sequence.

Although it is an unusually concise sixty-seven minutes, Hill could still be considered a perfectly representative Hong Sang-soo film. The Korean festival favorite instills the proceedings with a bittersweet vibe, but it is more neurotic than sentimental. It is all about connections made and broken, told with a gentle narrative gamesmanship to keep us on our toes.

Ironically, South Korean most likely could not have submitted Hill as their foreign language Oscar submission, because nearly all the film is English, or rather the stiff, formal version of English that serves as an awkward lingua franca for the Japanese and Korean characters. That would presumably present some acting challenges, yet it seems to play to the strengths of sad-eyed, American-reared Japanese movie-star, Ryô Kase. He measures his words and plugs away in understated fashion, as a good Hong protagonist should.

It is a strong supporting cast all around, particularly including Moon So-ri’s remarkably open and vulnerable Young-sun. Korean cinema’s grand dame and Hong regular Youn Yuh-jung also adds some salty vinegar as the tart-tongued landlady. There are also the brief but memorable supporting turns from various visitors to the guest-house that seem to practically fall out of the sky.

If you like Hong Sang-soo movies, this is a very good one. It certainly captures the zone of futility, where romantic frustration leads to exhaustion, ennui, and confusion. Characteristically sly, Hill of Freedom is recommended for those who appreciate Hong’s intellectually advanced relationship chamber dramedies when it screens this coming Tuesday (9/30) at the Walter Reade and Wednesday (10/8) at the Gillman, as part of this year’s NYFF Main Slate.

Hong Sang-soo’s In Another Country

In the working class seaside village of Mohang, there is not a lot to do except drink.  Fortunately, that is what Hong Sang-soo’s characters do best.  Intimacy on the other hand is a problem, especially for a trio of French women stumbling through cultural and linguistic barriers.  Isabelle Huppert plays all three of them in Hong’s sort of English language debut, In Another Country (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Dodging debt collectors, film student Wonju and her mother are laying low in a sleepy Mohang inn.  To pass the time, she starts writing a screenplay very much in the style of Hong Sang-soo.  It is a triptych in which the French expat Anne comes to the very same hotel under different circumstances, yet has similar experiences each time.

The first Anne is an accomplished filmmaker, who tries to discourage the attentions of a drunken colleague with a very pregnant wife.  The second Anne is cheating on her wealthy husband with an almost famous film director.  The third Anne bitterly resents her ex-husband leaving her for a Korean woman, but it is not hard to understand why he dumped her.  In each case, she flirts with the meathead lifeguard with varying degrees of ambiguity, half communicating through their broken English.

Country is just so Hong Sang-soo, but the tone is a bit lighter than Oki’s Movie or The Day He Arrives.  Nor is it as self consciously post-modern in its approach to narrative.  Each of the three Annes’ stories are discrete and completely self contained (though take 2 includes a dream sequence that could almost count as a fourth strand).  In fact, it is a rather sunny film, taking long walks on the beach and chatting amiably with the cute but shy Wonju, who also appears in each arc as the daughter of the hotel proprietor.

Still, it is rather fascinating to watch Huppert brings successively darker shades to each Anne.  Frankly, the third is a bit of a pill, whereas the flawed but self-aware second is the most fully developed.  Yu Junsang, the only other constant besides Jung Yumi’s pleasant but rather inconsequential Wonju, is a perfectly believable lunk, but his best dramatic moments come during the first go-round.  However, Youn Yuh-jung, the veteran leading lady of Korean television and cinema, is absolutely perfect as Anne #3’s academic friend Park Sook (and appearing as Wonju’s mother in the opening segmentas well).  Smart, somewhat tart tongued, and likably world weary, she brings some real verve to the talking and drinking.

Indeed, Country is a chatty film, utilizing English as a second language, so communication is always an issue.  The manner in which Hong repeats certain key phrases is often very droll, but there are no great profundities to be found here.  That is not necessarily a bad thing.  Watching Hong’s latest is like falling in with a group of strangers at a party who are amusing for an evening, but you don’t really want to make a habit of seeing afterward.  Again, if they are good for some laughs, that is not so terrible.  For Hong and Huppert’s fans, it works quite well.  Recommended accordingly, In Another Country opens this Friday (11/9) at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema.

The New Housemaid

Yes, the rich really are different from us. They are just plain evil. At least that is the inescapable implication of Im Sang-soo’s radical re-conception of Kim Ki-young’s 1960 edgy Korean masterpiece The Housemaid. Heavily steeped in sex and class consciousness, Im’s Housemaid (trailer here) opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

The wealthy Hoon can always make problems go away with discretely placed envelopes filled with cash. The Byung-sik has seen it happen time after time. The grand dame of the domestic staff has accomplished a rare feat of social elevation, supporting her son’s legal education up through his recent appointment as a public prosecutor. She has earned a measure of respect from the family, yet she still slaves for them while barely masking her contempt. Into this environment of simmering malevolence comes a veritable lamb, Eun-yi.

Initially, Eun-yi enjoys life as a servant in Hoon’s house. Though undeniably sensual, it is not entirely clear whether she is really all there. It is also debatable who first seduces whom, Eun-yi or Hoon. Regardless, she is quite pleased to fulfill her additional duties. However, when her pregnancy starts to show, Hoon’s cold wife Hae-ra and her cougarish mother Mi-hee have a big problem. Things will not be pretty from here on out.

Crafting a big, lurid sexual melodrama, Im turns the class dynamics of the Kim’s Housemaid on their head. In the original, the middle class family allowed their live-in servant to terrorize them with impunity, fearing the social and economic consequences which would result from any whiff of scandal. In contrast, Kim portrays the Hoon family as masters of the universe, reckless in their perversity and utter disregard for the rights of their employees. Yet, rather than a call to the barricades, Im’s Housemaid is a guilty pleasure filled with jaw-droppingly provocative twists and turns.

Already something of a legendary figure of Korean television and cinema, Youn Yuh-jung’s supporting turn as Byung-sik is exceptionally accomplished, providing the dark, resentful heart of the film. It is truly award caliber work. Film festival superstar (recently seen here in Secret Sunshine) Jeon Do-youn is also perfectly cast as the mostly innocent Eun-yi, keeping viewers effectively off-balance the entire film. Also quite notable is the ever alluring Park Ji-young, frankly outdoing any and all Lady MacBeths as Mother Mi-hee. Perhaps most surprising though, is the rather nuanced and intriguingly ambiguous work of Ahn Seo-Hyeon as Hoon’s young daughter Nami.

Tightly executed, Housemaid is a nasty, feverish thriller. It is also wickedly stylish thanks to the lush cinematography of Lee Hyung Deok and Lee Ha-joon’s lavish set design. Highly recommended, especially but certainly not limited to connoisseurs of Asian cinema, Im’s Housemaid opens this Friday (1/21) in New York at the IFC Center.