DEPARTURES (おくりびと)

Daigo playing his childhood cello

Directed by: Yojiro Takita
Country of origin: Japan
Starring: Masahiro Motoki, Ryoko Hirosue, Tsutomu Yamazaki

Last night I decided to revisit Yojiro Takita's Academy Award winning drama, Departures, and tonight my eyes are still sore. Departures is a powerfully emotional film, director Takita moving his viewers through stoic cinematography and through an emphasis on his strong leads. Okuribito is a softly spoken film, relying on visual symbolism to completely convey its deep messages. A significant amount of time is taken to dwell on the faces of the film's major characters. At various times in Departures, the camera remains stable upon Daigo Kobayashi's face, perhaps motioning to the depression that he's been harboring, or to the gradual emotional progression that he undergoes during the film's duration. This stasis of the camera is a common element in the cinematography of Departures, giving the film a very somber, even existential tone.



At its heart a very human and simple film, Departures is a character study and a reminder to the viewer that life is simply what you make it. Motoki plays the lead role of Daigo, an unemployed cellist who was abandoned by his father at a early age. Over the time that we spend with him, we realize how much this absence has effected his life. The film begins on a depressing note, Daigo landing the symphony position of his dreams  and losing it after his first gig. He decides to move back to his hometown to start new. This serves as a reminder that our dreams may not always be that realistic. Director Takita frames Daigo's life very simply, seeming to accentuate the normality of it. Digging deeper, one realizes that all of the deaths and general conflicts of the supporting characters are reflections of what Daigo's life is or could be. Yojiro Takita manages to find someway to make each of the casketting scenes, or nohkan scenes, so heartbreaking. Each of the scenes seems to create a miniature subplot within themselves, introducing a series of complex characters or family conflicts. But through subtle, brief writing and strong acting, the viewer is able to understand what those families are going through. Each nohkan scene is completely different, yet so sad and happy at the same time. I found myself crying for the families who had lost their loved ones. There was always a break-down, a moment in which a family member, usually a male, just can't hold his sorrow in anymore. It's revealed in the end that each of these scenes is a foreshadow of the release that Daigo finally feels in the film's last scene. It all comes together satisfyingly well. Many call Departures a slow film, but the smooth, meditative pace in which the story is portrayed was refreshing and effective for me. Like so many Asian films, Takita stopped to dwell upon the subtle beauties of the characters and their surroundings. Departures is so successful due to strong leads and its human message, and has me crying like a baby as it all came together. A beautiful film, Yokiro Takita's Oscar winner forces the viewer to pause an appreciate life.

***** / *****

The stone letter

SHINJUKU INCIDENT (新宿事件)

Steelhead and the illegals taking the Taiwanese district

Directed by: Derek Yee

Country of origin: Hong Kong (2009)

Starring: Jackie Chan, Naoto Takenaka, Daniel Wu

I was feeling a little lethargic last night an decided to sink my teeth into a more of a bottom-shelf type film, one requiring less thought or attention, and I got just that with Derek Yee's Shinjuku Incident. I'll give any film with Jackie Chan in it a chance; there's nothing like seeing one of his highly stylized martial arts fight scenes in the wee hours of the morning. But, frankly, Shinjuku was a very muddled, borderline corny film. It tells a fictional tale of a Chinese man (Nick Steelhead) who illegally immigrated to the Shinjuku district in Japan. Supposedly his goal was to move there in order to live a better life, but this motive automatically fell short after seeing how happy Nick was in his village. All the flashbacks of him in the China showed him with shelter, food, loved ones, and generally in good spirits. Why he would leave all of that for the filthy streets of Japan was beyond me. Sure, he primarily did so in order to find his loved on, Xiu Xiu, but that necessity becomes obsolete early on when he finds a new girl in Shinjuku. In general, the Shinjuku's story just takes itself way to seriously, and places that could've shined are ultimately ruined by poor acting or an overdose of melodrama. Cliche becomes a huge element in Shinjuku's demise. Instances of sudden intense violence and even a scene of graphic sexuality are really the only things that merit Shinjuku its "R" rating, all of which are completely unnecessary. The potential of its unique premise is undoubtedly squandered, and reading reviews and seeing awards it was nominated for, I found myself asking what idiots actually thought this film was great. It was entertaining, and that is an overstatement.

Jackie Chan's performance is definitely the saving grace of Yee's Shinjuku Incident, if there is one. Yee pushed back the production of this film for two years because he believed Chan was perfect for the part. I do agree with him there; the dark, relatively silent role of Nick Steelhead does seem to suit Chan well. Yee said in an interview that "people are too familiar with the image of a fighting Jackie Chan. It's time for him to move on to drama." While this may be true, Shinjuku may not have been the best vehicle for Chan to kick things off in. Jackie's acting is really hit or miss. It was a hit in The Karate Kid. A hit in the Rush Hour films. But in Shinjuku it was ultimately a miss. He definitely gave the role his all, but the story was too ridiculous for him to truly shine. The scenes where he had to cry were the nails in his coffin; they reeked of cheese. And after sitting through 120 minutes of Shinjuku, wouldn't you know it, there wasn't a single Jackie Chan fight scene. He didn't block a single punch or hit a single person. On the contrary, Nick Steelhead was a big pushover. He possessed courage, but everytime he stepped up, he ended up just running away. It was very disappointing. 



In the last scenes of the film, the warring Yakuza gangs ended up bombarding Steelhead's apartment with stones and samurai swords....... This justly sums up the ridiculous style in which the Japanese mafia was portrayed. After seeing Kitano's masterpieces like Sonatine and Hana-bi, the Yakuza in Shinjuku Incident were laughable. They were shown more as lowlife thugs and bodyguards, and spoke slowly and simply like they had only an elementary school education. They were a bunch of cowards, and the fact that they did their bidding with samurai swords was absolutely inaccurate and borderline stereotypical. The last scene played out almost like a wuxia film, in which the yakuza, for whatever reason, decided to chuck stones at Nick's building before charging it ninja-style with Japanese steel. Shinjuku Incident was mildly entertaining in its ridiculous. It was cliched and overblown, and as much as I love Jackie Chan, not even he could save it from being another violent flop. 

** / *****

TREELESS MOUNTAIN (나무없는 산)

Jin and Bin atop their metaphoric treeless mount

Directed by: Kim So Yong
Country of origin: South Korea (2008)
Starring: Kim Hee Yeon, Kim Song Hee, Lee Soo Ah




Acclaimed Korean director Kim So Yong continues her exploration of young female protagonists with her next arthouse poster child Treeless Mountain. Following the the lives of two young sisters who are basically abandoned by their mother (who goes off to look for their estranged father), the film progresses slowly, taking its time to convey the emotional impact it has on the girls. Treeless Mountain almost seems existential in areas; the film has very little dialogue and focuses more on the facial expressions and movements of the young girls. Critics have criticized Kim's second feature film for being too slow, and I do agree that the film seems to sluggishly meander through many areas. The girls do a lot of walking, a lot of staring, and not much conversing. Treeless seems like a minimalist painting, in that Kim took a blank canvas and added only a few strokes of paint. The characters are very ordinary, the cinematography is not elaborate, and in areas the story verges on boring. It feels like a documentary, a day in the life of an average Korean girl, but it seems obvious that director Kim sought to make her audience feel just this. Treeless Mountain is truly an arthouse film, and although it's story is so simplistic, many viewers will not understand the real points Kim is trying to make.

The symbolic piggy bank

Treeless Mountain isn't exactly a feel-good movie. Like several East Asian films that I've seen, in general the children of the film are treated like stray dogs. The majority of adults speak to them in a very irritative tone, often with hateful words. Jin, a six year old girl in kindergarden, is seemingly expected to act like an adult, and when she doesn't handle one of the many responsibilities she has correctly, she is scolded. "Big Aunt" and even their beloved mother seem to be the biggest perpetrators in general, blaming Jin for the wrong-doings of her little sister and telling them to "shut up" when hungry. Specifically Big Aunt is very hateful towards the girls. She dines in front of them while they were vocally hungry, constantly refers to them as a burden, and even mocks Jin when she wet the bed. Obviously, Kim went out of her way to make Big Aunt seem hateful, but the same element seemed to exist in other characters as well. The mother, while having a couple subtly encouraging lines, spoke to her daughters with a distinct disdain. It was like she could never be pleased, even when Jin brought home a homework sheet that she was given an A+ on. It was never good enough. Even strangers in the street and older students were rude, knocking into one of the girls and telling her to watch out, or refusing to pay more than 10 cents for a bag of grasshoppers. These little things all add up to a somber tone that consumes the lives of the girls and, thus, the film. Perhaps this disregard to the comforting of children is a cultural thing among the Asian culture, but it seems ironic to me, since babies are treasured and doted upon so much. As a result of the constant negativity, I found it very difficult to cheer for Jin and Bin, and just found myself feeling so sorry for them. It was very depressing at points.

Running in search of her mother

 Kim So Yong does intend to introduce some amount of hope at the end of Treeless Mountain, when the girls go to live with their grandmother. The old women treats them so kindly, and the girls truly appear to be happy. The simple life that they begin to live with their grandparents seems to be a relief of stress for Jin and Bin. The girls no longer worry so much about seeing their mother, and the film end with Jin assuring Bin that they'd see her again very soon. The girls show a sign of maturity when they give their grandmother their hard-earned money so that she can buy new shoes. The piggy bank seems to act as a symbol of the mother's abandonment, and as they finally give it up, a stress is seemingly eased. The film closes with the girls following their grandmother, hand in hand, singing a song. These instances together would make it seem as if the girl's new mindset on everything is obvious to the viewer, but unfortunately this isn't so. In reality, the girls are only with their grandmother in the film for about 25 minutes, an amount of time not really enough to really see their change of heart for what it is. It was easy for me to see through facial expressions and symbolism this shift, but I can see it's ending being vague and abrupt to most people. With a very homely story, unenthusiastic characters, and not even a score to help drive the piece, Kim's Treeless Mountain does tend to drag on. But looking past its simplicity, one will see that Kim takes her time with the camera in order to dwell on the heartfelt, sincere acting of her child actors. There is definitely some value to be had in the adorable, honest performances of the girls, but Treeless Mountain may appear too plain and boring for many. 

**3/4 / *****

  

WELCOME TO DONGMAKGOL (웰컴 투 동막골)

Directed by: Park Kwang-hyun
Country of origin: South Korea (2005)
Starring: Shin Ha-kyun, Jeong Jae-yoeng, Kang Hye-jeong


I'm kicking things off with the Korean film that helped inspire this blog. Park Kwang-hyun's Welcome to Dongmakgol arrived to me during a time in which I was bored and completely uninspired. This film, fueled by its rich characters and its stoic cause, raised me out of that slump. Like most Korean films, Dongmakgol combines several genres (war, comedy, and drama), making for an incredibly unique cinematic experience. I approached it like any other film, yet partway through, I realized that Park's debut was slowly growing on me. At its end I was touched and, truthfully, near tears. Welcome to Dongmakgol  is one of the most heartwarming and heartbreaking films I've ever seen. With its strikingly gorgeous cinematography and an ensemble of talented actors, Dongmakgol is a film that really sneaks up on you. It planted a seed inside of me, one fertilized by a dose of empathy, one exposed to a world of simple beauty. At sudden points in the film, it suddenly hits you, and Dongmakgol truly shines. Lets dive in.

At its heart, Welcome to Dongmakgol is a satire of Korean conflicts and a critique on the Korean War. Through comedy and irony, Dongmakgol tells a story set in the darkest times of Korea's history. The nation's people are in the middle of a brutal cival war, one that left the country divided and changed forever. Park showcases the brutalities of war, showing the tragic points of view from both the Northern and Southern soldiers. At the film's beginning, the viewer is thrust immediately into the lives of the battered and wounded soldiers. The violence is sudden and massive, and an amount of empathy is undeniably established as the deaths of young Korean men are framed so strikingly on-screen. Upon close escape of death, and as the viewer has a chance to stop and breathe in relief, Park comes in and gets to work. With the fluttering of dozens of white butterflies, the soldiers enter the new world that will come to cleanse them of their impending stresses. A common motif throughout Dongmakgol, the white butterflies seem to float freely through the mountain skies like Japanese blossoms. They symbolize life, and the profound effect its simple presence has. This is the message of Welcome to Dongmakgol, that the warring people of Korea should simply abandon their violence and revert back to their heritage, life dedicated to beauty and simplicity. 

The villagers of Dongmakgol live innocent lives. Their world exists only as far as their village and the forests surrounding it. They neither know nor care what lies beyond the mountains cradling them, and nobly so. Kind and gentle like children, they know nothing of the savage war that rages below them, and they welcome any and all visitors with the utmost amount of respect and hospitality, like their ancestors did before them. This simplicity is their way of life, and the central theme encompassing Welcome to Dongmakgol. 

When the soldiers wandered into the mountains, the gravity of their duties vanished, and to the villagers, any war High Comrade Lee and Second Lieutenant Pyo sought to rage against eachother was a simple argument. Firearms were sticks, and grenades were painted potatoes; to the villagers of Dongmakgol, these outsiders were just making a lot of noise about a simple feud. Words could resolve it, as far as they were concerned. And in this, Park Kwang-hyun and his intelligent screenplay make their point. The war and the soldier's grievances are made a mockery of in the presence of the villager's smart remarks and general cluelessness. In reality, the village is rounded up and held hostage at gunpoint by two factions of mortal enemies. But instead of being alarmed, the villagers appear to be more annoyed than anything. They have more pressing things to worry about than some pointless conflict between five strangers, like the wild boar thats been ravaging their food supply. They go about their hilarious, slapstick conversations and thus, the soldier's situation becomes nothing more than a silly standoff. Before they know it, the Northern and Southern soldiers were standing their, grenades and guns raised, for almost 24 hours straight, several of them struggling not to doze off while they remain standing. The situation is ridiculous and hilarious, and as the soldiers are drenched with rain and the villagers sit dry, giggling at the silly outsiders, the viewer begins to get it.

THE POPCORN SCENE 

Eventually, though, the hostility between the soldiers does culminate in a violent resolution, and creates what I believe to be the central scene of Welcome to Dongmakgol. Still standing and completely exhausted, young Northerner Taik-gi fumbles a live grenade and the soldiers run for safety, Lieutenant Pyo attempting to save the village by jumping to cover it. Although it at first appears to be a dud, Pyo tosses it blindly backwards in relief and the grenade lands, ironically enough, in the Dongmakgol food supply, exploding on contact. The corn and potatoes that were meant to last the villagers through the winter were all gone, but instead of being an atrocity, the explosion became a thing of beauty as popcorn floated down upon the village like soft flakes of snow. The villagers beam and dance, beholding this amazing gift that the mountain provided them. In result,  one of the most significant and radiant scenes of the Korean New Wave cinema is born.

Popcorn falls on Dongmakgol

What makes this scene so successful is its clear symbolism and sudden shift in pace. Every physical element that upholds the popcorn scene is absolutely flawless, from the slow motion to the crisp depth to Hisaishi's angelic score. Upon exploding, it's almost as if the beautiful world surrounding it caused it to implode, and instead causing fear it caused joy. The air of simplicity that the village thrived on suffocated this man-made 

weapon of destruction. And as the popcorn fell, the soldier's inhibitions are forgotten, and they seem just as moved by the downfall as the villagers. Their acts of violence, even in the extreme of an explosion, were not enough to shift the innocence of Dongmakgol. Pyo, Lee, and their men seemed to silently realize this, and their attitudes were changed and more temperate throughout the rest

of the film. It was almost as if the popcorn hypnotized them; their hatred was released, and they pondered skyward in awe and relief. Relief, so much, that the exasperated soldiers were finally lulled to sleep. The popcorn was like a lingering stun spore, the straw that broke the camel's back. The raging bears were coaxed into hibernation by an act of simple beauty, showcasing Dongmakgol's central message. The villagers acted accordingly,

innocent and oblivious as always, despite their massive loss of food. They grasped the moment of beauty at hand and treasured it.  This was the scene where Dongmakgol truly began to move me. Master and legend of film score Joe Hisaishi composed music for the popcorn scene that absolutely gleamed like the sun. It showcased the emotion and the tone of the scene flawlessly. A true goosebump effect. It is in this scene that you begin to realize how intoxicating the atmosphere of Welcome to Dongmakgol is. You grow fond of the colorful characters and the pristine village that they reside in. And this emotional bond only grows from here, continuing to sneak up on you.

After their aggression is exhausted, things between the Northern and Southerners gradually improve, until respect and friendship is established, even between their zealous leaders Lee and Pyo. Any awkwardness is depleted as the men feast together on the boar they took down as a team. A simple human gesture of sharing food brought the warring people of North Korea, South Korea, and America

  together. Park seems to dwell on this turning point in Welcome to Dongmakgol, perhaps commenting how the little things can make all the difference. The film itself indeed seems to live by that motto, taking time to explore the subtle beauties of the living and the inanimate alike. The soldiers spend the next few months helping the people of Dongmakgol replenish their food supply, and in doing so grow close with them and their way of life. Similarities between Dongmakgol and Edward Zwick's epic The Last Samurai arose in my mind. An outsider with a violent past, his presence obligated in a foreign place, proceeds to grow and adapt to the natural beauty and simplicity surrounding him.

Once the soldiers in Dongmakgol have to leave the village in order to save it from impending forces, sentimental moments between them and the villagers are heartbreaking. In the more serious moments of the film, Park did a fantastic job of making me feel pity for the victims. When the village chief is brutally beaten. When Pyo's flashback and past in finally fully revealed. The death of Yeo-il. Even the heartbreak of young Taik-gi. To me, the projected emotion was not a stretch, and I was moved in various instances throughout the film. In Dongmakgol, the village idiot, of sorts, Yeo-il is mainly used as a source of comic relief. But she actually becomes a symbol of the care-free lifestyle and the presence of love in the world of Dongmakgol. Her dances in the rain and popcorn.

Yeo-il in the rain

Her bright smile as she wiped the faces of the tired soldiers. Her simple gesture of love to Taik-gi revealed in the film's end. These action gave the film and the village its color. The villagers may have called her crazy, but Yeo-il held a special place in each of their hearts. Her charm begins to do the same to the viewer, and once she is killed, something vanishes and Dongmakgol is no longer the same. Tragic defines it best.
Welcome to Dongmakgol is a beautiful film with a valuable message. While hilarious in parts, director Park has also discovered a way to move his audiences with instances of heartbreaking drama. To me, the film was inspiring, and reminded me why I love East Asian cinema. It is a layered piece, and if you let it, it's stunning world will suck you in. In the end, after an apocalypse of sorts for the viewer has occurred, the white butterflies resurface from the snowy mountains and, in a very Miyazaki-esque way of doing it, tell us that life and hope still remain. The ending is not entirely resolved, and most viewers will naturally want to see Capt. Smith return to Dongmakgol, but what happens to the villagers and the survivors is never known. But it doesn't need to be. As with many of Korea's greatest films, Dongmakgol ends subtilely and satisfyingly, giving the viewer the closure they need yet leaving them with a taste for more. I'll say it once more, Welcome to Dongmakgol touched me; it warmed and broke my heart in all the right ways. It is quite the experience.

***** / *****

Listing the Masters

To kick things off, I wanna start by thinking out loud a little bit and listing a few of the leading forces behind East Asian film today. The list of influential filmmakers is so long; this small group are just a few of my personal favorite, and whose works I'll end up focusing primarily on. 

AKIRA KUROSAWA

Works: Seven Samurai, Rashomon, Ikiru, Yojimbo, Ran, Throne of Blood, Dreams, ...

Country of origin: Japan

Born: 23 March 1910

Death: 6 September 1998

Occupation: Director, screenwriter, editor, producer

The godfather of Asian filmmakers, Kurosawa is widely regarded as one of the most important and influential directors in history. He established now text-book techniques, like the wipe, axial cut, and cutting on motion. Focused heavily on the lifestyle of the Japanese samurai, creating many of the first great epics. Received a Lifetime Achievement Academy Award and was named "Asian of the Century" by CNN. Needless to say, his vision paved the way for Asian and Western filmmakers alike.

YASUJIRO OZU

Works: Tokyo Story, Late Spring, Floating Weeds, An Autumn Afternoon, ...

Country of origin: Japan

Born: 12 December 1903

Death: 12 December 1963

Occupation: Director, screenwriter

Ozu, known mostly for his magnum opus Tokyo Story, was a master of depicting emotion through solely imagery, a skill in which he developed through an extensive career during the silent era. Focusing primarily of the relationships of people from different generations, Ozu's unique technical style was so subtle that it took years after his death for people to fully grasp and appreciate this man's accomplishments. 

TAKESHI KITANO

Works: Hana-bi, Sonatine, Kikujiro, Boiling Point, A Scene at the Sea, Dolls, Zatoichi, Kids Return, Outrage, ...

Country of Origin: Japan

Born: 18 January, 1947

Occupation: Director, actor, screenwriter, editor, producer

"Beat" Takeshi Kitano is one of the leading auteurs still active in the Asian film industry today. His works span a broad horizon, ranging from his trilogy of avant garde memoirs to his remake of the prolific samurai Zatoichi. Kitano is most renowned for his film's depicting the lifestyles of the yakuza. Using his established dead-pan and his keenness for black comedy, Kitano's style is like none other. His risque plot content and aptness for sudden brutal violence are not for the faint of heart, and have driven many Japanese away. But Kitano is an arthouse master, never failing to satisfy or surprise.

HAYAO MIYAZAKI

Works: Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, My Neighbor Totoro, Porco Rosso, Laputa, Howl's Moving Castle, Kiki's Delivery Service, Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea, ...

Country of origin: Japan

Born: 5 January 1941

Occupation: Director, screenwriter, character designer

Miyazaki is a legendary, prolific anime director behind films that have influenced people around the world for decades. Known for the immense details of his worlds and the characters within them, Miyazaki's style and his striving tone of simple beauty create the perfect escape. Considered his masterpiece among masterpieces, Spirited Away won the 2002 Academy Award for Best Animated Film. Miyazaki, besides Kurosawa, is the most internationally well known Asian filmmaker and continues to inspire people today. He often touches on themes involving the environment and its relationship with humans. Hayao has one of the largest followings in film today.

JOE HISAISHI

Works: Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, Hana-bi, Sonatine, Welcome to Dongmakgol, When the Last Sword is Drawn, A Scene by the Sea, Dolls

Country of origin: Japan

Born: 6 December 1950

Occupation: Composer, musical director, arranger, conductor

Joe Hisaishi (or Mamoru Fujisawa) is one of the most established and respected score composers in the history of cinema. Over four decades, Hisaishi has composed scores for over 100 films. Most famously, Hisaishi has collaborated regularly with Hayao Miyazaki and Takeshi Kitano (until their falling out during the production of Dolls). Hisaishi's style and tone of music is absolutely singular, employing musical elements of minimalist, electronic, and Japanese culture throughout many of his works. He is often accredited to the immense successes of his employer's work. Many firmly state that films such as Hana-bi and Spirited Away are only as powerful as they are because of Hisaishi's score. Typically consisting of strings and a piano base, Hisaishi's music is a powerful force throughout each film in his extensive filmography.

HUO HSIAO HSIEN

Works: A City of Sadness, The Puppetmaster, Cute Girls, Flowers of Shanghai, One Day in Taipei

Country of origin: Taiwan

Born: 8 April 1947

Occupation: Director

Huo Hsiao Hsien is an award-winning Taiwanese filmmaker and a leading figure in the Taiwan New Wave movement. Often using very nihilistic techniques with overly long shots and minimal camera movement, Huo's style is decidedly elliptical. He often focuses on events in Taiwan's past and people's reaction to China's influence.

EDWARD YANG

Works: Yi Yi, The Terrorizers, Taipei Story, Mahjong, A Confucian Confusion, A Brighter Summer Day

Country of origin: Taiwan

Born: 6 November 1947

Death: 29 June 2007

Occupation: Director, screenwriter

Yang was a leading member of the Taiwan New Wave cinema movement and focused primarily on the relationship between new and old traditions and the relationships between inner city families. Yang lived in Taipei his entire life and thus chronicled many of the city's largest issues through his films. His most famous work Yi Yi won him the Best Director award at the 2000 Cannes Film Festival

ZHANG YIMOU

Works: To Live, Raise the Red Lantern, Not One Less, The Story of Qiu Ju, Ju Dou, Hero, House of Flying Daggers

Country of origin: China

Born: 14 November 1951

Occupation: Director, producer, cinematographer

Yimou is one of the most decorated and renowned Chinese filmmakers. His films, many collaborating with actress Gong Li, have won and been nominated for numerous awards at the Cannes and Venice film festivals. He is specifically known for using wide arrays of bright colors in his cinematography in his concubine films like Raise the Red Lantern and his wuxia films Hero and House of Flying Daggers.

PARK CHAN-WOOK

Works: Oldboy, Joint Security Area, Thirst, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Lady Vengeance

Country of origin: South Korea

Born: 23 August 1963

Occupation: Director, screenwriter, producer

Many people are already beginning to shout the word "auteur" as Korean director Park continues to churn out film after impressive film. His immensely dark tone and mature contexts have made him one of the most popular Korean directors in history. His cult classic Oldboy nabbed him the Grand Prix at the 2004 Cannes Film Festival. His films are immaculately framed and brutally stunning in their visuals. 

Mission and Preface

When someone from anywhere around the world thinks of cinema, they think of Hollywood. Of a medium of art and entertainment dominated by an established American system. Undeniably, Hollywood has influenced the world with its movies. They are creators of memories. Escapes to more admirable worlds. And by sitting in a dark room, in front of a bright screen, millions of viewers are touched by these films every day. But it didn't all start in the west. Like all American things, cinema would not be what it is today without influence from the eastern hemispheres. Europe reigned as the renaissance center of cinema for decades before D.W. Griffith and the United Artists birthed the Hollywood spark in 1910. French artists Georges Melies and the Lumiere Bros. were pioneers with their discovery of the first projector and their experimentation with camera techniques, respectively. Through history, works of western European filmmakers, old and new, are often accredited solely to the development and growth of American cinema. However, an artistic influence farther to the east is commonly overlooked.

Hayao Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke

Quietly, as they have through the world's history, the artists of Eastern Asia were crafting the first examples of cinema far before the Europeans even painted a portrait. Evidence dating back to as early as 500 BCE shows that Chinese philosopher Mo Di (墨翟) had invented a device in which an "inverted light from the outside world" beamed through a "small hole in the opposite wall in a darkened room". This early version of a modern day zoopraxiscope (an early projection device) predates Muybridge's original by nearly 2500 years. This fact appropriately sums up what Asia has been doing with it's art for thousands of years: beating us to the chase. East Asian cinema has a rich history, its existence originating almost simultaneously with America's, it's legacy continuing to prosper today. Auteurs like Kurosawa and Ozu lead the way as the Asian filmmakers employed filmmaking styles and techniques that Westerners would not discover for years. Much of China, Japan, and Korea remained untouched by Western influence until the mid- 20th century, leaving their culture and their cinematic style immune to the rapidly changing society of the American film scene. Although they eventually fell behind in terms of the latest technology and equipment, their techniques multiplied and their style was established. Effectively, East Asian cinema had branched out from its Western counterparts, serving as a wave of overwhelming inspiration to today's most successful directors and cinematographers. My mission in this forum is to surf that wave.

Kim Ki-duk's Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring

Like so many before me, I happened across a random film and was blown away by it. Exactly two years ago today, I was laying on a leather couch in my Grandma's South Carolina condo, only the light from my dirty Macbook screen lighting the room. I was in the middle of a horror movie binge, going through flicks new and old that had a fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Unenthusiastically, I popped in a movie about a mutated fish monster that liked to swallow people along some river in South Korea. Little did I know that this movie would change me. I was moved. It was so much more than some half-assed horror movie. It was a film that combined horror, comedy, and melodrama. A film that evoked an array of corresponding emotions. The picture was crystal, the tone was dark, my eyes were wide. It was Bong Joon-ho's The Host (괴물 ), and it was the first film of the Korean New Wave that I'd ever seen. Sure, looking back perhaps The Host isn't the best film ever compiled, but it packed a punch and exposed me to a style of filmmaking I'd never experienced before. I was hooked, and I wanted more. It would be the catalyst of quite the streak...

Bong Joon-ho's The Host

In this blog forum, I'll record my findings, my opinions about the best films, new and old, from the East Asian masters. Their cinema relies on revealing the beauty that simplicity evokes, an element of the Asian life style that spans their existence. This meditative tone, focusing on the beauty of the world and the life within it, has been such an immensely inspiring force to me as a student and as a filmmaker. Silence. Simplicity. Beauty. Viewing works from all the masters in Korea, Taiwan, Japan, and China, I'll go on a mission to grasp this state of mind and to understand it. I'll tell you what I think, what I saw, and what I now see. Join me on this journey of Asian cinema's past and future .