Time Never Stands Still, Especially Happy Time: Tears Of The Black Tiger (2000)

I am fully willing to admit that Thai cinema, amongst a ton of other regional cinemas has proven to be one of my most under viewed areas, and while I have seen at least one Thai film to date I do not recall being in the right frame of mind to appreciate its deliberate pacing and focused narrative, which is a shame because I am certain that with a different frame of reference I would have absolutely adored the work.  Nonetheless, when I discovered Wisit Sasanatieng's Tears of the Black Tiger hiding in the deep caverns of Netflix watch instantly it looked far too excellent to pass up as an inclusion on my entire month of westerns.  Of course, I fully expected it to be a traditionalist work within the framework of non-western bodies, but what I got with this film was something wildly its own and visually captivating, possessing what may well be my new favorite color palette for a film.  It is a highly pastel based backdrop, almost indicative of the sixties era east asian post-cards and album covers that involve light green and pink patterns to a high degree, a style that would become embraced by the punk movement only years later.  Furthermore, all of the love for Django Unchained, deserved as it may be, often forgets to remember that all Tarantino really does is copy and paste his films together based off of a ton of crazy things he has already encountered in his vast and surprisingly well-rounded film diet.  It is easy to see where a filmmaker like Tarantino, as well as many Korean and other contemporary East Asian auteurs would have borrowed from Sasanatieng's cult classic, both in its decided embracing of the non-linear narrative, while also making decided use of the glossy, high cinema respect that comes with the western genre.  Each rawhide fueled swelling of the soundtrack pairs magnificently with the simple, yet earnest, love story that emerges within Tears of the Black Tiger and never seems forced or repetitive, despite being a film that essentially recreates encounters between specific characters over a varied length of a couple of decades.  Suffice it to say, if this is what I have been missing out on by not engaging with Thai cinema, consider it a new point of reference and the next area of focus when I do one of my marathons reflecting on works that I have failed to catch up with up until this point.

Tears of the Black Tiger is not exactly the most straightforwards of narratives, but it nonetheless does have a degree of linear structure.  The film focuses on a rural area in Thailand that is subject to a particularly rough group of bandits that have been very frequently and very violently scouring the hillsides for money.  Their main figure is that of Dom (Suwinit Panjamawat) a reluctant bandit whose only real passion in life is to make a name for himself in order to assure a life with the upper crust Rumpoey (Stella Malucchi) of whom he has been quite fond of since childhood when the two took a canoe ride together.  In a particular shootout between Dom and a group of police officers, wherein Dom is attempting to make contact with his love, he is trapped by the  officers and dealt with personally by the lead officer, who indeed is slated to marry the young woman, per the bequest of her father who sees the upstanding officer of the law a much more ideal fit for his daughter than any lowlife, and impoverished thief.  Already facing the trouble of authorities down his back, doubly so when his intentions with Rumpoey are fully acknowledged, things are made far worse for the suffering Dom when his own gang members suspect him of engaging in duplicitous behavior and in the process turning their own guns against him.  All the while Dom is dealing with apparent deja vu as he finds himself defending Rumpoey against a group of wily men who mock him for his aspirations with such a woman, but the difference between their initial encounter in Dom's youth and their recent one is a decided disconnect from concerns for harming those antagonizing him and he proves himself an ideal match for Rumpoey in his willingness to sacrifice himself for her well being.  Of course, no amount of establishing his love for Rumpoey, nor her returning of such feelings, can allow for Dom to find solace, because he is still forced to deal with his maniacal gang members and in a poetic final shootout, Dom attempts to reach for a picture of Rumpoey to explain why his actions have been so unusual, only to be shot by a member assuming that he was reaching for his gun.  Dom dies and in the closing moments all that is left is a visual memory of the bond between the two star-crossed lovers, one that was never to be based solely on unjust class divides.

This film is a visual experience, between its heavy use of pastel colors and fiery, almost incandescent lighting, Tears of the Black Tiger fails to have any visual competitors, maybe with the exception of the equally stylized Pedro Almodovar, who films are very much cinematic pop art.  Furthermore, it is precisely in this comparison that I want to talk about the manner with which Tears of the Black Tiger deals with the trope of violence within the western.  Almodover, a well-established director, often uses his highly stylized and comic stripe style visual elements to suggest something humorous, if not out right absurd about sexuality and gender performance.  This sort of detachment allows for viewers to become comfortable with the topic only to have the director eventually slap a very real and ethically fueled dilemma into the discussion, one that refuses to embrace conservative values.  I would extend this frame of reference to Sasanatieng's film, especially considering that it is a film that makes heavy, if not excessive, use of egregious and gratuitous gore.  Although given the pastel wash that lays upon the film it is, like Almodovar, quite humorous and almost laughable when men's heads explode into pink ooze, only to be completely ignored and moved away as though a simulacrum or virtual experience completely detached from human loss.  The notion of death and loss is quite frequent within the western as a genre and what Sasanatieng does within Tears of the Black Tiger is not new per se, he is simply the first one to do it in such a sensational and absurd manner.  Yet, if this violence were to merely go unchecked I would find this film to be far more problematic, but that is far from the case and, again, like Almodovar, Sasanatieng makes sure to incorporate the reality of loss beyond the corporeal within the final moments of the film, depicting the images of both Dom and Rumpoey in picture frames and the credits begin to roll.  Sure viewers are allowed to revel in the excess and violence while the film rolls, but it is not a reality which one should subscribe to for any reason, and the closing credits suggest that violence in cinema, most notably westerns has a degree of falseness about it, but memories do linger and for many in the world they are very much a result of an insane and unwarranted act of violence.

Key Scene:  Shooting a bullet through coin.

Again this is available on Netflix watch instantly, you should bump it way of in the queue immediately.

I Am A Golden God: Almost Famous (2000)

There is a consensus that Dazed and Confused is one of the best reflections of a historical moment ever put to film, which perhaps helps to explain its unquestioned place at the top of film hierarchy between its sweet soundtrack and great cast, and I am certainly somebody who dotes on the film whenever possible.  Yet viewing Almost Famous earlier today has really thrown a layer of perspective on the entire debate, as it is an equal and at times better film than Dazed and Confused while theoretically focusing on the same post-rock'n'roll disillusioned youth culture of the front half of the seventies.  I use the word theoretically because where Dazed and Confused chooses to focus on a seemingly mundane group of individuals dealing with grandiose and heightened issues, Almost Famous is precisely the opposite choosing to situate its narrative within the most lively portion of the era, while considering some of the most mundanely troubling aspects of human existence.  Cameron Crowe, perhaps most well-known for Jerry Maguire and one LL Cool J demanding financial compensation, yet what exists within Crowe's ode to an era is a love letter to some lost moment of childhood, or perhaps of an entire generation, one that is a sweetly sentimental as it is brutally detached from the situation.  It provides viewers with something that is both completely grounded in reality, as well as being somewhat stylized and expressionistic in its approach.  The America that is depicted through travel within Almost Famous is both rejecting the old social order, while also attempting to consider how to properly reinstate some sort of authoritative figurehead.  It seems as though Crowe's very personal film attempts to reach out and consider how much control individuals had during the time, while also suggesting that many involved were actively attempting to avoid responsibility, making the handful who genuinely sought to guide themselves with a legitimate moral compass equally confused and lacking direction without any degree of support.  Almost Famous is a manifest of sorts to an era long gone, a film whose millennial release date says much about the manner with which the characters move through their space disconnected, yet harping upon a less than grounded belief in a shared culture.  Short of calling Almost Famous a revelation, one could certainly deem it necessary viewing.

Almost Famous focuses on the wide-eyed William Miller (Patrick Fugit) an aspiring music critic who is constantly dealing with the loss of a father at a young age, and overbearing anti-anything produced by society mother named Elaine (Frances McDormand), as well as the loss of a close relationship with his sister Anita (Zooey Deschanel) who leaves the house to pursue a career as a stewardess.  When William is encouraged by a minimally successful local critic, named Lester Bangs (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), to write about an up and coming band named Stillwater, he moves away from the nest, much to the worrying and fretting of his mother.  Yet, the magnetism of Stillwater with their boisterous lead singer Jeff Bebe (Jason Lee) and their enigmatic guitarist Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup), proves to much for William to ignore and while passing as being considerably older than he is manages to land a gig as a roving reporter for The Rolling Stone who see Stillwater as the "next big thing."  William also meets Penny Lane (Kate Hudson) a self-proclaimed "band-aid" which she claims to be distinctly different from a groupie in that they actually inspire songs in the groups and purposefully avoid having sex with band members.  Needless to say, the trip across America proves to be a veritable wakeup call for the young William, who is witness to all kinds of decadence, debauchery and danger, all the while Elaine constantly assuring his safety to no avail.  It is also along this trip that William becomes enlightened to the woes related to being pushed through the ringer of celebrity life.  He witnesses Russell spiral through a multitude of identity issues, not to mention a problematic love triangle between Russell and Penny, with William being an onlooking third participant.  Of course, as was the case for so many bands before and after, Stillwater finds themselves doomed for failure based on their dysfunctional dichotomy and the general deception of the music industry.  William catalogs the entire unravelling of the band while also dealing with his own existential crisis, tied both to his inability to return home in times of desperation, as well as his inability to consummate anything of value with Penny.  As the tour winds down William is beleaguered and returns home to a welcoming Elaine and a world weary Anita.  Although the band denies the report he files to The Rolling Stone a final scene involving redemption between Russell and William proves all the reward the recent high school graduate could have desired.

It is a tricky thing for a filmmaker to create an narrative so heavily invested in considering the human condition, let alone one within such a setting relative privilege.  Usually films of this grand introspection require at the very least a third world setting or some degree of impoverishment.  However, I would argue that Crowe's particular choice to set the film in the early seventies provides a degree of moral and social decrepitude equal to that, without forfeiting the hipness of "rock'n'roll" or music culture.  The characters, both main and extras, seem to simply wander through their spaces hoping for momentary collisions of understanding, some attaching themselves to a single band, as is the case with one overly committed Led Zeppelin fan, or to an idea, as occurs with Penny Lane who seems tied to the idea of Stillwater, both prove tragic because not only of their singularity, but also because of their assured promise of disappointment, considering that Stillwater does not stay together and, historically speaking, neither did Led Zeppelin.  The way the characters involuntarily engage with one another both embracing and denying its necessity was a theme that seems to have failed in a film like Crash, but works so perfectly within this work.  William's groundedness throughout the film is not a result of his stronger moral upbringing, although it clearly helps him keep his head straight in later portions of the trip, but instead his commitment to his own personal escapism through music, however, unlike the others who use it as a pseudo-drug, William sees it as a metaphor for live and forms a healthy relationship with each musical moment, often choosing not to join in on sing-alongs, opting instead to study each person rendering their voice to a song, this occurs most noticeably with a famous Elton John song.  Yet when groundedness literally becomes an impossibility for William, even he breaks down and is forced to reconsider his value placements, confronting the group for their treatment of Penny, not because he thinks it is particularly unjust to Penny, but because it is unfair to him and his desires for her.  The choice to situate the final scenes of the film at William's home are key, because even though he has travelled and seen an awful lot for his age, he is still quite young and deserves a chance to remain a child a bit longer.

Key Scene:  The opening credits are awesome, if not those, it is certainly the airplane scene.

Buy this movie, it is well worth the few bucks you will have to shuck out to enjoy its brilliance.  In fact, I suggest a joint viewing with Dazed and Confused, as they both use different avenues to make similar considerations about seventies America, in fact, just think about both films closing settings.

Your Shadow Is Over The LIne: J.S.A.: Joint Security Area (2000)

Sitting nicely between at the beginning of The New Korean Cinema wave, as well as clearly show influence from the Hollywood infiltration in Suth Korea the few decades prior, Chan-wook Park's much heralded and well received J.S.A., or Joint Security Area is an action thriller done right.  Often credited as Park's introduction to popular moviegoers, J.S.A. has subtle hints to the methods and commentaries the director would later incorporate in his Vengeance Trilogy, of which Oldboy is perhaps his most well-known work.  It contains a handful of well-known Korean actors, ones whose faces I can now identify, although learning names is still taking some practice, and comments upon perhaps the most strenuous of subjects to the Korean person, the hyper-intense relationship to their bordered communist neighbors North Korea.  Like Shiri, a work that was for quite some time the highest grossing film in South Korea, J.S.A. considers the validity and necessity of a division between Korea and goes so far as to cross the seemingly impenetrable, all be it non-physical, border.   As a thriller, J.S.A. is exceptional, playing into the all to familiar practice of a non-linear narrative within South Korean films, yet managing to use this detachment from temporal space to create contradictions between the recounting of hotly debated events resulting in the murder of a North Korean soldier.  As a film deeply entrenched within the political concerns of a divided Korea moving into the 21st century, Park is careful to consider the validity and verifiability of accusations of rule breaking, particularly when the tensions are predicated on political ideologies, ones enforced by colonized forces and non-present entities.  A border crossing film in the most literal sense, J.S.A. questions the notions of ideological divides and posits a possibility of something transcendent of such detachments, especially when loneliness and a longing for fraternal bonds come into play.

Joint Security Area situates itself quite knowingly within the history of a divided Korea, going so far as to incorporate images and writings reminding viewers, mostly Koreans already aware of the hostilities, of the lynchpin created by the DMZ in the 1950's.  With little explanation beyond this the film depicts the results of this pin being pulled when a shot fires and a North Korean soldier is killed, resulting in a shoot-out between two divided nations.  What follows is the joint investigation by a fictitious global initiative noticeably similar to the United Nations, which intends to investigate how the incident began. The investigation is led by Major Sophie Jean (Yeong-ae Lee) a child of a Korean War refugee and Swiss woman.  If her gender were not already a point of contention, her problematic mixed identity certainly adds a problematic layer. Yet as her investigation begins it becomes clear that the stories provided by the South Korean soldiers engaged in the act, as well as their North Korean counterparts do not match up, heavily predicated on a lack of explanation to a missing firearm slug.  For the South Korean army Sergeant Lee (Byung-hun Lee) represents the point of inexplicability, yet it becomes apparent that he has crossed over to the North Korean side, purely by accident, but, nonetheless, stepping on a mine in the process.  Lee is discovered by Sergeant Oh (Kang-ho Song) who is wary at first of his pleas for help, but after explaining that he can diffuse the bomb with his help Oh reluctantly agrees.  The two share a few moments of discussion and eventually end up sending mail to one another via a flying brick.  Upon the joking suggestion of another soldier in the North Korean Army Lee finally crosses the border and after initial fears the group begins hanging out, eventually bringing another soldier from each side into the picture.  The group keeps their meetings secret, but during one night of revelry, they are discovered leading to a panicked firefight that kills two North Korean soldiers.  The remainder of the narrative centers on Sophie's discovery of this, as well as her own problematic past as it relates to the Korean divide.  Tragically very few survive the entire altercation and the two countries remain problematically severed.

I mentioned in the introduction that this is a film entirely concerned with border crossing, this of course expands way beyond the simple idea of moving from the South to the North and exists on metaphorical levels as well.  Firstly, Sophie represents a variety of crossed borders, firstly in her mixed race identity that crosses national borders, as well as social and political ones.  Similarly, her place as a female within the masculine oriented world of the military represents a border as well.  Even the methods by which the film narratives itself transcend borders, Park's non-linear narrative and use of time both as a grounding signifier and a means to undermine moments crosses temporal borders quite frequently.  Of course the film, while bookended by Sophie's experiences is inevitably about the soldiers experiences as they do cross that literal border.  In crossing the "Bridge of No Return" Lee and Oh have invariably crossed their countires ethical and political borders as well, ones that have very dire consequences resulting in the very least with incarceration and at the very most death. However, the group also transcends notions of fraternal relations, almost to the degree of intimacy as they share food, fond memories of their girls back home and a latently sexual exchange of spit.  However, what proves to be the greatest border crossing has to be Park's choice to depict North Korea not as a place of propaganda driven blind followers, but a country being destroyed by lack of food and a grounded economic future that, nonetheless, finds hope in their leaders and the ideas of communism.  Park's film advocates a unison between two opposing ideas that does not mean synthesizing, nor does it mean absolute exclusion.  It, like Shiri, envisions a a border that exists to mark nothing more than delineations, but can always be moved across with little threat to one's life.

Key Scene:  The moment when the soldiers decide to take a picture of their friendship, Park choose to up the graininess of the scene, subsequently causing it to have a nostalgic feel in line with sentimentality and it comes off beautifully.

This movie is a bit pricey and I had to rent it from the USC library to watch.  With that being said it is quite excellent and purchasing a copy is on my to do list, as it should be on yours.

We Cant Leave Without Saying Goodnight: Pitch Black (2000)

Words that I never thought would be uttered on my blog are about to be written into the proverbial stone that is the internet.  I have found a movie in which Vin Diesel out acts the rest of the performers in a film.  In many a Diesel driven film he either plays a lesser character to established actors, as is the case with something like Saving Private Ryan or he ends up just being yet another terrible performance in a even worse film, as has proved true in the Fast and Furious franchise.  However, it is hard to deny that 2000's Pitch Black is very much helmed by the performance and precision of Diesel playing a convict who is forced, rather unwillingly, into a position of authority and leadership due to a trait his character possesses.  Vin Diesel embraces this place in the film with zeal and just enough of a suaveness that it manages to work and even the ridiculous nature of his character within a larger science fiction plot manages to work wonders.  Cinematically speaking Pitch Black is a flawless movie, it employs a great brilliance of traditional camera tricks, post production magic and a load of justified CGI to create a new planet within a galaxy, although the characters within the narrative clearly reflect our global ideals circa 2000, the extra terrestrial nature of the work manages to center the social commentary in something more transcendent.  Furthermore, the work contains a some what positive depiction of an Arabic character, however, I need only draw your attention to the year in which the film was released as a means to help explain why this portrayal was approved in the first place.  I know including Pitch Black on the blog this month seems a bit of a stretch, however, I stand firmly in it entrenching itself to some degree or another within the horror genre, particularly in that the narratives main point of progression centers around a group of people surviving through a pack  of monsters attacking them during nightfall, the only thing making it non-traditional in its horror leanings is that it is set on another planet, were it the same concept set in suburban America its place in the genre would not only be unquestioned but understood as certain.

Pitch Black begins with a space freighter of sorts traveling through the depths of the galaxies, as the voice of Riddick (Vin Diesel) explains that he is a prisoner placed in confines on a ship carrying civilians, a choice he thinks to be terrible considering that the lengthy trip could prove dire at any moment, a prophecy that soon comes true when some sort of meteor materials pierce the hull and begin destroying the ship and causing it to spiral downward towards a unknown planet.  The captain dies during the crash leaving Carolyn (Radha Mitchell) unwillingly in charge of the group, which includes the ever divisive shipmate and cop William (Cole Hauser), a Arabic priest aptly named Imam, played by Keith David who would have got my vote for best actor in the film were it not for his constant moves in and out of an accent.  Along with this group are a antiquities dealer, a few archaeologists and a young androgynous person who takes a quick liking to Riddick. When they emerge onto the bright planet the party realizes that the world they now inhabit does not follow the celestial rules of Earth, instead having at least three identifiable suns.  Tensions rise as the group navigates the new space, particularly when it becomes apparent the Riddick's help is necessary to escape the sand trap that is the planet, only worsened by William's refusal to grant the prisoner any sort of breaks, his motives are later revealed when viewers discover that he is indeed a bounty hunter and not a cop as he claimed.  When night falls it the group realizes why the planet is uninhabited, because the area is lurking with boney alien bat creatures that crave destruction and seek out the group with much zeal.  Eventually going underground with lanterns after discovering that the aliens are destroyed by sunlight, at this point the group severely splinters over what role Riddick will play upon reaching a supply ship that they intend to take to get off the planet, eventually leading to the death of William.  Riddick and others do make it to the ship, but must fend off many more of the creatures before leaving the planet a task that comes with a new set of dangers.

Pitch Black, like many a film centering on the experiences of inmates tend to do, studies the line between good and evil, as well as lawfulness and ethical forgiveness.  Similar to Luke in the film Cool Hand Luke, Riddick has a certain suaveness and hipness to his actions, often spouting poetic one liners to those who condemn them and even engaging in purposefully humorous moments, as is the case when the camera zooms in on him lounging under an umbrella while the group fearfully looks for him. In contrast, we are provided with William who is a drug fueled bounty hunter whose southern accent and dismissive attitude to Riddick help to assure that the already on-the-nose slavery commentary is not completely overlooked.  We are also, as viewers, led to believe that the murders in which Riddick partook were a matter of self-defense and necessity and that overall he lacks a genuine desire to hurt people.  In fact, compared to the self-serving attitudes of some of the characters in the film, including Carolyn who grapples with her own self-worth in relation to a group of unknown persons, Riddick seems rather saintly, certainly his ethereal, almost angelic presence is intensified by his glowing eyes.  However, that is not to say that the criminal is not void of is own faults, in some of the closing moments Riddick does indeed falter in face of his own survival, realizing that if he concedes to returning for the other members of the party he will voluntarily provide witnesses to his whereabouts and existence.  However, the higher good prevails in Riddick and he returns for the group, unlike Carolyn whose initial attempt to dismiss the group to death is inevitably and tragically punished as her and Riddick finally share an understanding embrace.

Key Scene:  The moments we are afforded Riddick's vision are a bit of a cinematic treat in their technological newness, as well as their hearkening back to sic-fi classics of the 60's and 70's.

Pitch Black is a movie I enjoyed much more than I anticipated, however, I can see it being less exciting to many others and as such only suggest renting it.

I'm Not A Psy-cho: I'm A Cyborg But That's Ok (2006)

The continued study of Korean film still amazes me, something I should just start assuming until I see a truly terrible Korean film.  However, my most recent discovery with Chan-wook Park's I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK is certainly the most cinematically enthralling film to date.  The director, more globally known for Oldboy, brings something so vibrant and energetic that I was finding myself thinking the film more of a live action version of Paprika than a piece of dramatic film.  However, despite being rather unusual narratively speaking, Park's film is a serious and captivating love story that unfolds in a bizarre and haphazard fashion pushing my own understanding of what constitutes the genre of romance.  I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK, is, despite its rather sci-fi leaning title is about as real a film as one can ask for, of course it is set within the experiences of a mentally insane individual so our understanding of reality as viewers is somewhat off-kilter.  Park manages to take a very confusing and disorienting state of mind and not only make it approachable, but almost normal.  Simply put, I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK completely undermines everything it can within two solid hours of a visual feast that will lodge itself inextricably within your mind.

As mentioned above, I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK focuses on the experiences of an individual who is mentally unstable, one Young-goon (Su-jeong Lim) a factory worker who believes herself to be a cyborg that requires electricity in order to function.  Her irrational ideology causes her to jam wires into her wrists that result in her being electrocuted.  Baffled by her actions, her mother places her in a mental ward, claiming that she is probably acting in relation to her grandmother who believed herself to be a rabbit.  Her belief, like Young-goon's resulted in her being hospitalized.  While at the mental institute Young-goon meets a bizarre cast of patients that include a man who witnessed an accident he believed to be his fault, which resulted in him being obnoxiously kind, a young woman who believes herself to be training for a Swiss choir despite not possessing the traditional looks of a Swiss girl and one woman who has a penchant for lying incessantly.  Young-goon seems content to ignore the group as a whole until she meets a kleptomaniac named Park Il-sun (Rain) who has the ability to steal other patients' disorders amongst other things.   Although the two have a rocky start, it becomes clear that feelings emerge between the two and they seem destined to unite, until Young-goon stops eating, as she believes she only needs electricity to survive.  Troubled by his inability to help Park panics and acts aggressively, until he comes to the realization that he can convince Young-goon to eat by claiming to have created a device that converts rice into electric energy, a fake device that he cleverly tricks Young-soon into believing has been planted inside by her heart.  Assuming this to be the truth, Young-goon begins eating again and feels revitalized, although she ignorantly believes it is from electricity.  Park, the other patients and the hospitals doctor gladly play along in this ruse, as it assures her well-being and the blossoming of  a relationship between Young-goon and Park.

The love story element of I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK is not necessarily a love story at first sight.  For a better portion of the film, we are led to believe that Young-goon will simply be battling her own decaying sanity in a cinematic color palate to make Almodovar jealous.  However, it changes as one begins to make note of the subtle interactions between Young-goon and Park from the onset.  Park, donning various masks throughout the film, continually makes glances at Young-goon and goes so far as to constantly hover over her in observation, even playing along with her illness to assure her happiness.  In this sense, it is very much a love story in the vein of something like Lars And The Real Girl, in which individuals acknowledge the mental difficulties of another and adhere to their eccentricities with gusto and  care.  However, if one looks at just these elements it would appear as though the film is preoccupied with Park's longing for Young-goon, and as such, it would be a one sided love story.  Yet, Young-goon is not passive in her burgeoning relationship with Park, in fact, clearly taking a pride in him stealing her panties and even beginning to stalk him, although she fails miserably.  Though she pursues him constantly, it is perhaps her willingness to simply listen to Park, who is clearly the rebel of the institution, an act with which seems incredibly unfamiliar.  Director Park does not simply stop here though and makes masterful work of the narrative to assure a slow build to their eventual kiss which is done with sweet care while still adhering to the mental insanity elements of the film world.  In the composition of scenes, I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK is a superior love story and is easily one of my new favorite works in the romance genre and quite possibly one of my favorite Korean films in general.

Netflix has this cerebral gem available via watch instantly, although I plan to obtain a copy on bluray, because it is something visually stellar, although I will have to wait for its price to become a bit more pleasing.

Be Glad We Even Came This Far: The Isle (2000)

My continued romp with Korean cinema has produce a rewarding set of films the continually challenge my expectations of narrative and cinematic composition.  The Isle, despite its gritty low-fidelity nature somehow manages to be incredibly poetic and despairingly profound.  It is independent foreign cinema realized to its fullest, and despite its clearly Korean nature manages to be universal in its appeal.  As I continue through more of the Korean films mentioned in the books I am reading, it is becoming apparent that they share many similarities to American cinema, however, when it comes to their studies of individual's psychological nature Korean films seem to excel in a way far more dark than any other country in the world.  The Isle is absolutely a film concerned with the inner desires and nightmares of people, and how such manifestations inevitably affect the world around them, sometimes in a very physical manner.  Like my previous review of Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, The Isle finds itself tied to notions of revenge in a way that seems inherently entrenched within all Korean films, respective of a unique culture that finds an uncomfortable relationship with their past that proves a cause for chaotic rebellion that is viscerally depicted in their films.

The Isle focuses on a set of floating houses at some unnamed river in Korea that is run by a mute prostitute named Hee-jin (Seo Jung).  She seems content to drift from house to house, providing foods, and services, to the residents, until she is provoked by one customers degrading behavior.  In retaliation she kills the man while he is relieving himself and finds little qualm in doing so.  Things change though with the emergence of a new resident, one Hyun-shik (Kim Yu-seok), a criminal evading the law after what viewers assume is a murder in a jealous rage.  While Hee-jin seems disinterested in Hyun-sik at first, his clearly disturbed past becomes a point of interest and Hee-jin begins to long for him, becoming jealous of his relations with the other prostitutes that frequent the house.  This jealousy is exacerbated by Hee-jin becoming close with Hyun-shik as she finds herself saving him from multiple suicide attempts, one particularly gruesome one involving fish hooks.  Disinterested in Hee-jin, Hyun-shik attempts to escape the resort only to be denied by Hee-jin, who possesses the only boat that can leave the isle.  Yet again, fishhooks serve as a means to try and escape from the area, this time in a much more gruesome manner, however, after a spat, Hyun-shik finds himself saving Hee-jin.  The two continue their troubled relationship, and when divers come to rescue a lost rolex they discover the dead bodies of a prostitute and her pimp, which leads the couple to escape from the area, by attaching to the motor of the boat to Hyun-shik's floating house.  The two are now living together in their house, as they float into uncertainty on a river to nowhere.

The Isle, similar to the Japanese experimental film The Woman in the Dunes, has a purgatorial nature about it, particularly given the dreary and lonely nature of the film.  The characters, despite their interactions, seem to just drift throughout the film uncertain about their future or what direction to engage.  They are stuck between something great and something awful and it is never certain what place they will ultimately reside.  The characters, as evident of ones stuck in purgatory, boarder between the definitions of good and evil, and it is ultimately their choices at the isle that decide their fate.  Hyun-shik, is guilty of murder, however, it is made clear that his actions were at the very least not evil as he was doing so in a fit of jealous rage.  He must reside in the purgatory of the isle until he acts in the name of good, which occurs when he saves the live of Hee-jin.  Similarly, Hee-jin is engaged in a questionable position ethically as she is a prostitute and uses her body in a clearly degrading manner, furthermore, she is guilty of murder, yet the people she has killed are certainly bad and in need of punishment.  Again, like Hyun-shik, it is not until she acts in a morally positive manner that she is allowed to escape her situation and give up the job as the ferry person of the purgatorial isle.  At this point, the couple leave the isle and head into nothingness, but we as viewers can only hope that it is into a heavenly place.

The Isle is a hidden gem of Korean cinema, a lesser known marvel amidst a rather stellar decade of films.  Thankfully, it is available streaming on Netflix and well worth watching.

It Will Be 9/11 Times 2356: Team America: World Police (2004)

I saw this film a few years after its initial release and rewatched it recently per the request of a friend who is about to ship off to OCS training.  Upon my initial viewing of the film, I enjoyed all the blatant humor within the film that I had already come to adore from the minds of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.  This second time around, however, I was able to pick up on many of the slighted social critiques and clever political diatribes that were initially less apparent.  I make no qualms about my love of the work of Parker and Stone and while they may receive flack for their bawdy antics and complete disregard for moral decency, the two clearly understand the problems of the world far better than most politicians could even begin to imagine.  As such, Team America is something profoundly larger than a musical about puppets fighting the war on terrorism, as it is more than appropriate to say that South Park is about much more than a group of kids growing up in rural Colorado.  Team America is instead a scathingly accurate commentary on our world post-911, particularly how we dealt with the cultural appropriation of patriotism, terrorism and national unity in a time when all seemed dire.  Team America amidst its explosions, toilet humor and knowingly terrible acting reminds viewers that comedy is the best medicine to despair, as well as the most accessible route to astute social commentary.

Team America: World Police follows a group of trained soldiers whose soul purpose appears to be the assurance of freedom globally and the cessation of all things terrorist.  The group is led by a man named Carson whose sauve ways and leadership assure that the group will fight terrorism with little trouble, however, after a cowardly attack by a dying terrorist Carson is killed and Team America is left without a vital organ to their entire process.  Confused and desperate, the groups leader Spottswoode, recruits a respected Broadway actor named Gary to fill the void, believing that his excellent acting skills will prove useful in the infiltration of terrorist cells and the discovery of any hidden WMD's.  Reluctant, Gary attempts to sequester himself into a life of solitude that finds him constantly beating himself up over the death of his family by zoo guerillas.  It is not until Gary reflects on his own place in assuring freedom that he decides to join Team America and fight terrorism.  His addition to the group is received with mixed feelings, some finding him absolutely appalling and unfit to replace Carson, while others find him to be a perfect replacement.  Agreeing to help, Team America, along with Gary, plunge themselves into dealing with the removal of WMD's from Cairo only to discover too late that a far bigger player controls the terrorist movement, that of North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il, whose own self-deprecating loneliness has led him to desire the complete destruction of the world.  Oblivious to the true problems of the world, Jong-Il is helped by American actors who see Team America as conservative blowhards.  The group known collectively as the Film Actors Guild is led by Alec Baldwin and agrees to do a benefit in North Korea.  This benefit, as Jong-Il knows, will allow him a moment of global distraction long enough to bomb the world.  While the group has trouble unifying to fend of Jong-Il in a last sprint of unity the group is able to deter his actions and Gary is finally able to discover his true acting talents.  The film closes on a frozen frame of Team America celebrating their victory as they await their next mission to assure freedom, because as the film reminds us, it is not free, but actually costs "a buck'o'five."

As I said earlier, Team America is clearly a commentary on our own cultural discourse following 9/11.  As always, Parker and Stone are careful to critique the illogical nature of both sides.  Conservatives are critiqued through the scenes in which over zealous patriotism receives unquestioned praises, as is evidenced by the "What Would You Do For Freedom?" song which eerily parallels most every song Toby Keith has made since the terrorist attacks in 2001.  Similarly, the "American" things defended within the film are all clearly emerging from a white perspective, which is humorously done through making a member of Team America a white male from Nebraska, who is a natural born leader.  This moment clearly mocks the rise of a return to an older America that emerged after 9/11, which obviously meant the relegation of persons of color.  The film is also clever enough to dismiss the zealous counters of the liberal media, which automatically disregards freedom fighting groups like Team America as flag waivers.  The liberals, realized through the Film Actors Guild in the film, unknowingly agree to engage in terrorist activities, because to them anything that contradicts conservative values is inherently good, despite knowing that the other side in the film is obviously Kim Jong-Il.  Similarly, the film criticizes our own government's commentary on a post-PATRIOT ACT world that justifies invasions of privacy simply in the name of freedom fighting.  It is no coincidence that the computer used in the film is titled as I.N.T.E.L.L.I.G.E.N.C.E. as it is used as a justification for clearly illegal acts on Americans; this is particularly poignant within the film as we are never provided with the words that fit into the acronym.  The government within the film attempts to mask problems with huge phrases and catchy titles, while the conservatives and liberals feud over ideology that would clearly benefit from simply acknowledging a middle ground.  As you can see amidst images of vomit, elementary gay jokes and an absurdly funny puppet sex scene, Team America offers a fully realized vision of our failings in a post-terrorist world.

Team America screams rental, but is not bad by any means.  It really is a group viewing experience that will be greatly helped by the inclusion of PBR.