I can do without a cup of coffee, but the taste of Coffee Prince is too strong to resist: it plays with the notion of gender performance, and pseudo-homosexuality, all in a fresh and enticing approach.
Yoon Eun Hye's natural talents shines through and her chemistry with Goog Joo is music to the ears.
August 27, 2011
Christmas in August
I have just finished watching Christmas in August, a film that seems to belong to a most favoured genre in Korea: romance as lived in the mundane everyday life, narrated in a prose like style. Nothing catchy but the detailed delineation of those vivid in memories.
Contrast to its glossy television romance genre, the film one tends to feature a realistic look from settings to lighting, from the costume design to make-up etc. Though by and large employing the same pool of actors, they look more like your next door neighbours when they act on films.
But what really set this genre apart from their popular Hollywood counterparts is its narrative style; no conflict, no cinematic sensation, no particular camera movements that keep your head spinning.
It could feel like sipping a pot of lukewarm bland tea. For those who like the smell of it though, they would find residue of faint fragrance on their teeth for a few weeks to come.
Other works of such genre I have recently watched include:
A fine spring day (with sensual scenes especially when the protagonists are recording the sound of nature both in the bamboo forest and by the sea)
Once in a summer
Who are you?
Happiness
The bungee jumping of their own
April snow
Wanee and Junah
3-iron (an enigma with no dialogues between the two protagonists)
Not romance but in a similar narrative style:
My dear enemy
The way home
This charming lady
I am surprised by such a long list of films that resort mainly to the strength of the script and performance of the actors. It is a tell-tale sign that there is a critical mass of confident production team and performers who know their crafts well.
Contrast to its glossy television romance genre, the film one tends to feature a realistic look from settings to lighting, from the costume design to make-up etc. Though by and large employing the same pool of actors, they look more like your next door neighbours when they act on films.
But what really set this genre apart from their popular Hollywood counterparts is its narrative style; no conflict, no cinematic sensation, no particular camera movements that keep your head spinning.
It could feel like sipping a pot of lukewarm bland tea. For those who like the smell of it though, they would find residue of faint fragrance on their teeth for a few weeks to come.
Other works of such genre I have recently watched include:
A fine spring day (with sensual scenes especially when the protagonists are recording the sound of nature both in the bamboo forest and by the sea)
Once in a summer
Who are you?
Happiness
The bungee jumping of their own
April snow
Wanee and Junah
3-iron (an enigma with no dialogues between the two protagonists)
Not romance but in a similar narrative style:
My dear enemy
The way home
This charming lady
I am surprised by such a long list of films that resort mainly to the strength of the script and performance of the actors. It is a tell-tale sign that there is a critical mass of confident production team and performers who know their crafts well.
August 23, 2011
The Band's Visit
The Band's Visit is a little gem from Eran Kolirin.
At the beginning, one gets a sense that the stern head of the police ceremonial band will be a dominating figure throughout the story and you cannot help but empathise with those following him around, lost and financially stretched in a foreign land. The contrast of characters, and indeed in appearances, between him and a charming young member highlighted a question - how those older members have suffered over the years! The fact that the most obedient, and also the closest to him never manages to complete composing his oboe concerto is a symptom that life and creativity has been sucked out from the bunch of bored and stranded.
The story however has a surprising twist once the camera follows them into their hosting families. The middle age but alluring restaurant owner takes two - the pair that should never stay under the same roof for their disparities in all ways possible. To our utter surprise, it was the stern old man rather than the sexy young trumpet player who 'escorts' her to 'a fun and interesting area'. It is there we come to realise why, apart from a heart of gold, she has been so keen to offer free accommodation to the touring band gone astray in a foreign land; life is bleak there with barely anything of interest going on in the desert city. She is desperate for a bit of adventure and romance. The scene when she seats him on a bench at her 'park' is particularly poignant: in that eerily bare corner, imagination is in high demand to convince oneself you are sitting in a park. Under her charm though, the old man has not only removed his hat, but his rigidity and taciturnity and we find ourselves gradually warm up to him; for he too is a human being with desires and interest. And he even looks younger that night.
Those who join a birthday party dinner feel awkward when crammed into a tiny living room with their hosts - who either don't speak to or disagree on even the most insignificant. They realise then and there that guests and hosts are united, most unexpectedly, by two things in common: their sense of isolation and desolation, and their love for an old tune 'Summertime'. The sequence when the unemployed host advises the oboe player how to end his concerto is telling: perhaps it should end just like the present: not too sad, not too happy, just glad for being alive.
Two other sequences confirm the taste of life in the desert: a man who is guarding a public phone booth every second just in case his girlfriend might call. Is he mental? Surely he has better ways to occupy himself at night?
At a 'night club' that looks as bare as a makeshift camp site, we are given a glimpse of how lives are like for those looking for romance and excitement. On one hand, there is a couple who dance so immaculately they might as well be lifted straight from Saturday Night Fever; on the other hand, this guy with heavy eyebrows needs, literarily, hand-in-hand guidance on seduction.
In the sequence where the band takes their departure from the desert city, the camera shows us what the restaurant owner and his two unemployed companions are facing day in day out: blankness, nothingness and boredom. When the camera pans over their faces, it become obvious that that the band's accidental visit is in no small way a relief for the desert dwellers from their mundane everyday routine.
The film finishes with the performance the band is invited for. For the first time the reason for the band's existence become apparent in their touching and harmonious performance. We are also reassured that the hot trumpet player will not be dismissed as threatened by his head at the opening sequence. Through the walks in the 'park', the human voice in the head has been awaken. The young one looks more like the son he has lost three years ago. Despite the dalliance with the restaurant owner, the head forgives trumpet player readily.
All packed within 87 minutes, the film is directed in great confidence. And the performance from the whole troupe is just understated and sublime.
At the beginning, one gets a sense that the stern head of the police ceremonial band will be a dominating figure throughout the story and you cannot help but empathise with those following him around, lost and financially stretched in a foreign land. The contrast of characters, and indeed in appearances, between him and a charming young member highlighted a question - how those older members have suffered over the years! The fact that the most obedient, and also the closest to him never manages to complete composing his oboe concerto is a symptom that life and creativity has been sucked out from the bunch of bored and stranded.
The story however has a surprising twist once the camera follows them into their hosting families. The middle age but alluring restaurant owner takes two - the pair that should never stay under the same roof for their disparities in all ways possible. To our utter surprise, it was the stern old man rather than the sexy young trumpet player who 'escorts' her to 'a fun and interesting area'. It is there we come to realise why, apart from a heart of gold, she has been so keen to offer free accommodation to the touring band gone astray in a foreign land; life is bleak there with barely anything of interest going on in the desert city. She is desperate for a bit of adventure and romance. The scene when she seats him on a bench at her 'park' is particularly poignant: in that eerily bare corner, imagination is in high demand to convince oneself you are sitting in a park. Under her charm though, the old man has not only removed his hat, but his rigidity and taciturnity and we find ourselves gradually warm up to him; for he too is a human being with desires and interest. And he even looks younger that night.
Those who join a birthday party dinner feel awkward when crammed into a tiny living room with their hosts - who either don't speak to or disagree on even the most insignificant. They realise then and there that guests and hosts are united, most unexpectedly, by two things in common: their sense of isolation and desolation, and their love for an old tune 'Summertime'. The sequence when the unemployed host advises the oboe player how to end his concerto is telling: perhaps it should end just like the present: not too sad, not too happy, just glad for being alive.
Two other sequences confirm the taste of life in the desert: a man who is guarding a public phone booth every second just in case his girlfriend might call. Is he mental? Surely he has better ways to occupy himself at night?
At a 'night club' that looks as bare as a makeshift camp site, we are given a glimpse of how lives are like for those looking for romance and excitement. On one hand, there is a couple who dance so immaculately they might as well be lifted straight from Saturday Night Fever; on the other hand, this guy with heavy eyebrows needs, literarily, hand-in-hand guidance on seduction.
In the sequence where the band takes their departure from the desert city, the camera shows us what the restaurant owner and his two unemployed companions are facing day in day out: blankness, nothingness and boredom. When the camera pans over their faces, it become obvious that that the band's accidental visit is in no small way a relief for the desert dwellers from their mundane everyday routine.
The film finishes with the performance the band is invited for. For the first time the reason for the band's existence become apparent in their touching and harmonious performance. We are also reassured that the hot trumpet player will not be dismissed as threatened by his head at the opening sequence. Through the walks in the 'park', the human voice in the head has been awaken. The young one looks more like the son he has lost three years ago. Despite the dalliance with the restaurant owner, the head forgives trumpet player readily.
All packed within 87 minutes, the film is directed in great confidence. And the performance from the whole troupe is just understated and sublime.
August 15, 2011
East of Eden
A 56 episode epic from Korea, this is an ambitious project that in its minute dramatisation of the the fate of a lower class family in a deprived mining village, relates and comments on the drastic changes of the political and social landscape of a half century. With a rather charismatic Song Seung-hun as its leading man and a strong team of supporting crew, in particular Lee Mi-sook as the strong willed mother, it is both entertaining and revealing for those who are vaguely interested in Korea and its culture.
As my exposure to Korean drama and films increase steadily, I am also becoming more convinced in my initial finding: that the Korean spoken language seems a rich kaleidescope of various Chinese dialects, with Hakka being the one of the key components, a fact that appears largely unknown to even those intellectual friends who have regular dose of Korean drama since Korean wave hit China in the early 2000s. I wonder if somewhere out there, someone has been working at it, especially why that the key component seems to be Hakka, a dialect originated mainly from the remote mountainous areas of Southern China. I wish I didn't given up Hakka so radically when I was little.
As my exposure to Korean drama and films increase steadily, I am also becoming more convinced in my initial finding: that the Korean spoken language seems a rich kaleidescope of various Chinese dialects, with Hakka being the one of the key components, a fact that appears largely unknown to even those intellectual friends who have regular dose of Korean drama since Korean wave hit China in the early 2000s. I wonder if somewhere out there, someone has been working at it, especially why that the key component seems to be Hakka, a dialect originated mainly from the remote mountainous areas of Southern China. I wish I didn't given up Hakka so radically when I was little.
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