AAIFF ’15: A Girl at My Door

Lee Young-nam is a high functioning alcoholic. That alone would not derail her police career. After all, most big city forces have plenty of the low functioning variety. However, a scandal in her personal life had to be swept under the rug. As part of her rehabilitation, she must serve as a coastal fishing village’s station chief for one year. The last thing she needs is trouble, but when she gets personally involved with an abused school girl, conflict becomes inevitable in July Jung’s A Girl at My Door (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2015 Asian American International Film Festival in New York.

Lee is painfully reserved and socially awkward. The way she secretly stashes gin or vodka in water bottles does not look particularly healthy either. As soon as she sees the scrawny, conspicuously bruised Do-hee, she recognizes a fellow underdog. Lee proactively intervenes when Do-hee is bullied by classmates, but it is harder to protect her from her “guardians,” her resentful stepfather Park Yong-ha and his cruel, half-senile mother.

Park the wheeler-dealer is considered one of the few viable employers in the economically depressed township, so moving against him would be a tricky proposition, even for a copper with a spotless record. Nevertheless, after interrupting an especially vioent beating and seeing the marks left by subsequent assaults, Lee reluctantly shelters the emotionally broken girl in her own home. Obviously, this will be a problematic arrangement.

Even though Do-Hee quickly bonds with Lee, both carry extensive baggage that will complicate and hinder their relationship. The loathsome Park is also constantly turning up the pressure on Lee. Many times, she decides to wash her hands of Do-hee and Park, until a fresh outrage revives her indignation. Unfortunately, when a face from her scandalous past briefly visits, it gives him plenty of ammunition.

Door is light-years removed from a simplistic celebrations of innocent victims triumphing over adversity. In this story, there is darkness in everyone’s heart. It is also unusually nerve-wracking for a message-driven family abuse drama. Frankly, it is the sort of film that would make Oprah what’s-her-name’s head explode, which is a perfectly good reason to support its screenings.

It is also an enormously compelling film. Produced by art-house stalwart Lee Chang-dong, Door is just as much a gritty thriller as it is a work of social criticism. It is quite notable how many hot button issues Jung addresses, including child abuse, alcoholism, homosexuality, crony corruption, the exploitation of illegal migrant workers, and the shortcomings of the Korean justice system. Yet, each potentially controversial plot point flows seamlessly from the central narrative, rather than feeling tacked on for the sake of statement-making.

Wachowski regular Bae Doo-na takes her craft to a whole new level, basically ripping our souls out in the process with her quietly harrowing depiction of Lee. Watching her face, you can plainly see how much it hurts to be that repressed and alienated. Likewise, young Kim Sae-ron (who is amassing quite a resume, including the Lee Chang-dong produced A Brand New Life and the breakout action hit, The Man from Nowhere) viscerally conveys the physical and psychological trauma of abuse.

In an impressive debut, Jung takes the audience on a dark, twisty ride, while never watering down the narrative’s implications or taking any easy outs. It is tough stuff, but it latches onto viewers like a vice. Very highly recommended, A Girl at My Door screens tomorrow (7/26) at the Village East, as part of this year’s AAIFF.

Lee Chang-dong’s Poetry

These days, there are probably more people writing poetry than buying it. Hoping to find solace through the creative process, Yang Mija would also like to join the ranks of the former. The stylish sixty-something cleaning lady will need the consolation as she faces the greatest trials of her life in writer-director Lee Chang-dong’s Poetry (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Yang’s life was never exactly easy. Caring for her churlish grandson Wook (Wookie might be more apt) in the place of his absentee mother, she somehow made ends meet as the visiting half-maid half-nurse for a randy old man partly incapacitated by a stroke. Yet, she always saw the beauty in life, until two shocks fundamentally upset her world in quick succession. Following her doctor’s diagnosis of early Alzheimer’s, she is stunned to learn her grandson and his running mates have committed a horrifying crime with tragic consequences.

Though she has trouble remembering commonplace words, Yang seeks refuge in poetry, enrolling in an adult ed. course and attending a regular poetry recital (as a spectator only). Unfortunately, the words just will not coalesce into a proper poem. Yet, as we see the notes she makes in her journal, she certainly seems to be capturing something rather lyrical.

As with his previous film, Secret Sunshine, Lee forces his female protagonist through an emotional gauntlet. However, Poetry is a far less grueling viewing experience, largely due to the mature elegance of Yun Jung-hee, the celebrated Korean actress returning to the screen after a sixteen year absence. While she evokes Yang’s tremendous fear and confusion, she beautifully maintains the character’s sense of mystery, never fully revealing how much she has lost mentally nor what her explicit intentions are several key scenes. It is a richly nuanced performance that hints rather than tells.

Former Minister of Culture and Tourism for the ROK, Lee is more of an actor’s director than a visual stylist. Yet, the artful composition of Poetry’s final scenes are truly striking, unlike anything previously seen in Sunshine or his debut film Green Fish. Indeed, the film is not misnamed, ultimately delivering a poem of genuine grace (even in translation), perfectly framed during Lee’s masterful endgame.

Already a festival darling, Lee has produced his deepest, fullest work yet in Poetry. It is an elegantly written work that fits together perfectly, despite its deliberate ambiguities. While never showy, Yun is absolutely devastating and as realistically grounded as a screen performance can possibly be. Korea’s baffling decision not to choose Poetry as their official foreign language Oscar submission can only be explained by politics. Had they done so, it probably would have been one of the frontrunners. An excellent film, Poetry opens Friday (2/11) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

Lee Chang-dong’s Secret Sunshine

Some small towns are friendly and inviting. Miryang in rural South Korea is not one of them. Residents of this burg could safely be termed stand-offish. Nonetheless, a young widowed mother tries to make a new start in her late husband’s former provincial hometown in Lee Chang-dong’s Secret Sunshine (trailer here), which opens this Wednesday in New York at the IFC Center.

Frankly, Lee Shin-ae’s late husband was no prince, but she honors his memory anyway. Despite the closeness of their relationship, her son Jun naturally still misses his father. She assumes Miryang’s slower pace of life will better suit them, but the town does not exactly open its arms to her, aside from Kim Jong-chan, the smitten local mechanic, who tries way too hard. Yet, just as she starts to find her place, tragedy strikes again.

Secret is not simply a study of grief and loss. It is also a razor-sharp depiction of Korea’s burgeoning Evangelical Christian movement. Indeed, at her lowest moment Lee Shin-ae either finds solace with, or falls prey to, Miryang’s Evangelical community. Rather than launching a clumsy broadside, director Lee (ROK’s former Minister of Culture and Tourism) takes a more patient approach, really burrowing into that world and letting its characters speak for on its behalf relatively credibly. However, he eventually lowers the boom with some rather thorny questions regarding the convenience of forgiveness and grace.

Nobody gets off easy in Secret, least of all the audience for its angst-filled 142 minutes. However, there is no denying its artistic integrity and the remarkable work from its primary leads. Jeon Do-yeon justly took best actress honors at Cannes for her performance as Lee Shin-ae. She might be a hard character to embrace, but Jeon makes her acutely human, taking her through nearly every extreme emotion an average person can ever expect to experience. Song Kang-ho (recognizable in the U.S. from Korean imports like The Host and Thirst) is appropriately cringe-inducing as the loveless Kim. A better than average young actor, Seon Jung-yeop is also quite convincing as Jun, a basically good kid with some understandable issues.

Secret is an uncompromising film (bordering on the overwhelming), dominated by Jeon’s fearless performance. While it very definitely offers a hot-button critique of current Korean social trends, it is fundamentally rooted in universal human dramas. Recommended for those accustomed to high art-house fare but not predisposed to depression, Secret opens tomorrow (12/22) in New York at the IFC Center.

Young Gangsters in Love: Green Fish

If you’re the crime boss’s driver, never fall in love with his kept woman. It is a fairly obvious rule, but henchmen keep breaking it in film after film. At least Makdong knows he is courting danger in Lee Chang-dong’s Green Fish, a festival favorite from 1997 now available in America on DVD.

Makdong has just mustered out of the army with no real skills and even fewer prospects. He does seem to have a talent for taking a beating though, which he demonstrates on the trip home when he tries to come to the rescue of a beautiful woman hassled by punks. Unfortunately, he ends up leaving the train long enough to take a pummeling, while getting separated from the girl and his bag.

Eventually, Makdong reconnects with his femme fatale Miae, who inconveniently turns out to be the property of a rather perverse gangster. Strangely, “Big Brother” takes a shine to Miae’s innocent pal, bringing Makdong into the organization. Of course, part of his duties include chauffeuring Miae home from her disastrous torch singing gigs, setting in motion a dangerous emotional dynamic.

Despite some admittedly lurid aspects, Green is a surprisingly restrained crime melodrama. While You Yong-kil’s stylish cinematography and Lee Dong-jun’s vaguely jazz-influenced score give Green a noirish look and sound, Lee de-emphasizes most of the traditional action-thriller elements. Yes, there are definitely violent sequences, mostly involving Makdong getting the snot kicked out of him, but the film is generally more of a moody slow burn that a blazing shoot’em up.

Indeed, Lee invests the proceedings with a poetic sensibility, slowly unfolding his final tragic conclusion with deliberate patience. As Makdong and Miae, Han Suk-kyu and Shim Hye-jin convincingly flesh out the manifest flaws of their furtive never-quite lovers, maintaining a necessary threshold of viewer emotional investment, while hurtling towards the inevitable.

Lee would attract international attention for his later films, winning the director kudos at the 2003 Venice Film Festival and even briefly serving as South Korea’s Minister of Culture and Tourism. Though it is a somewhat familiar story, he gives the underworld material a bit of a twist that still seems intriguing. As a result, Green is definitely worth checking out on DVD.