10th London Korean Film Festival

Despite a hectic work and social life this November, I had to do all in my power to watch at least one film from this year’s London Korean Film Festival – the tenth that has now been held in this there city of fair London. But, in fact, I was able to go one better, quite literally, fitting two, count them, films in. This year’s schedule was quite a long one, with films shown only the once over numerous different strands. I missed some ones that I would have very much liked to have observed, and was unable to make any of the late-night, bag-o-snacks screenings that were on offer for midnight popcorn fodder.

So, what does the celebration of ten years of Korean cinema in London have to offer?

The Royal Tailor

This is quite a strange one for me. I have watched Korean period dramas in the past, and while I can appreciate the production qualities, they do not quite hit the spot for me. That said, I ended up in the cinema watching this one. And it was a little different from what I was expecting.

Making an ass of myself with my assumptions, I anticipated quite a slow piece, living up to costume dramas the world over. But this is a drama about costumes with a great deal of comedy thrown in for good measure, never getting too heavy, but with enough seriousness to steer it away from an all-out, knockabout comedy.

Dol-seok is the royal tailor: he is tasked with making all the formal clothes for the King, a man who seems less than content in his life and his sex-less marriage to his young Queen. Outside of the royal court, a young tailor is making a name for himself among the woman-folk, and soon he is brought to the King. Successful in his endeavours, Kong-jin finds himself under Dol-seok’s tutelage, but soon his more masterful skills become both a blessing and a curse, bringing scandal in his designing for the Queen and jealousy from Dol-seok, costing him dear.

Director Won-suk Lee starts off fairly light with this film, using comedy in his catwalk-style montages of Kong-jin’s ‘daring’ new designs being sported about town. The film then becomes a character piece, charting Kong-jin’s relationships: in passion with Dol-seok; and unspoken romance with the Queen. All is well and good in the lives of the three leads, with the tailors happily learning from each other, while Kong-jin builds the virgin Queen’s confidence.

  

However, as the King becomes more involved, the film moves to a darker tone, with loyalties tested, and inevitably the new, young tailor being put in his place, feeling the wrath of his superiors.

An incredibly high percentage of the budget for this film was spent on the costumes – the majority, even. For a period drama, it is perhaps not unusual for this to be the case, though this stands out in ‘Royal Tailor’, with countless numbers of costumes throughout. But, is this at the expense of other areas? Thankfully not. The acting between the leads is strong, necessary for a story built on relationships, and the look and style of the film are in keeping with the wardrobe budget.

Perhaps the links to the true story on the film’s conclusion feel a little unnecessary and detract a little, but for something that’s not my usual style, this is  a well-cut piece.

Romance Joe

A film by any other name, would not be as much of a draw as ‘Romance Joe’. With a name like that, you just simply have to watch it, don’t you?! The debut feature by Hong Sang-soo protégé, Kwang-kuk Lee, his mentor’s influence is laced throughout this non-linear, post-modern piece, that could prove an editor’s – and indeed a viewer’s – nightmare.

‘Romance Joe’ is a film of stories within stories, though by the film’s conclusion, we realise that these are all in fact part of one greater story that doesn’t care much for chronology. Someone is missing and his parents come to his flat to look for clues, accompanied by one of his friends. We then switch to a struggling film director, staying in a small town motel to get ‘inspired’ to write a new script. Ordering ‘coffee’, the extra cream delivery girl begins to tell the story of ‘Romance Joe’ – another struggling film director that was distracted from his suicide attempt when she accidentally bought him some ‘coffee.’

Along the way, and in no particular order, the story of ‘Romance Joe’, the ‘coffee’ girl and teenagers in love play out for us, switching between narratives, though gradually pulling themselves together by the end so that the viewer can piece together the story that they think they have just watched. Confused? Yes, as are many of the lead characters.

A love story full of twists and turns, this could easily have been made by Hong Sang-soo himself, feeling very similar to many of his films. However, made in 2011, this comes before many of Hong’s more recent unconventional rom-coms, and so Lee must be given some credit for his attempts at originality. Like all films structured –or not structured – in this way, ‘Romance Joe’ can take a little while to get a grasp of. However, once you’re in, you’re in, and you find yourself engrossed in the story as more and more unfolds and is revealed, or at least I did.

Films like this aren’t for everyone, and I know more than a few that have got confused, bored or both by Tarantino’s work, including myself. But if you don’t try to make it too epic and make too much of the switching of narrative, it can be a nice way to keep the audience interested and paying attention.

Beyond Da-wit Lee of ‘Pluto’ fame as a young Romance Joe, there are no established actors with long CVs to draw people in. Instead, Lee’s debut feature is a simple complicated film about some confused individuals.

Prior to ‘Romance Joe’ being screened, the good people of The London Korean Film Festival treated us to Kwang-kuk Lee’s short ‘Hard to Say’. This is a strange tale of a girl who tries to impress a boy by learning to play the guitar badly. She then dreams of the roles being reversed and the boy intrigued by her, before waking from her slumber. Like ‘Romance Joe’ and the films of Hong Sang-soo, ‘Hard to Say’ is simply confusing.

Recent film festivals and talks from Japanese directors have shown a gulf in Japanese cinema between the haves and the have-nots. Films are either mega-budget, idol-laced movies to eat popcorn by; or low-budget, having to work creatively shorted films that are perhaps restricted in quality by lack of proper funds. As a result the Japanese film industry is struggling.

At the last couple of BFI London Film Festivals, stand out works for me have been Hong Sang-soo’s ‘Hill of Freedom’ and documentary ‘My Love, Don’t Cross that River’. Both Korean films among a mix of global offerings show that Korean cinema is healthy, thriving from government funds and international film festival screenings. The fact that a thing such as the London Korean Film Festival exists – and has done for a decade – is testament to this.

With Third Window’s Adam Torel comparing the way Korean cinema is run versus Japanese, we can see that Korean cinema is a thriving, well-run industry, and the number of strong low to medium budget films making their way to the UK only confirms this. For me, Korea is one of the leading lights in cinema, and should serve as a blueprint for how the art form should be handles. 

Every 14 Days...(29)

Ring/Spiral/Loop (Koji Suzuki)

Recently, there's been a lot of talk among the film festival circuit of Hideo Nakata's new release 'Ghost Theatre', after years of not really being talked about. Completely coincidentally, I decided to re-read the 'Ringu' trilogy (well, re-read two-thirds; read for the first time one-third) that inspired the film that shot not only him, but many other 'Asia Extreme' directors to international fame.

'Ring' is an interesting one in the 'book vs. film debate,' with the majority of people typically claiming the book is better to give the vain veneer of being mildly intellectual (larks!). For me the film overshadows the book that gave birth to it. Nakata changed certain elements for the film version: changing the lead to a female, stating that females are more believable in being frightened; the very cinematic ending, that probably wouldn't have worked in book form. These changes improve Koji Suzuki's story, removing some of the stranger elements towards the first book's conclusion that spawn into the sequels.

'Ring', the first book in the trilogy is by far the strongest piece, starting with a detailed discovery by journalist Asakawa that his niece's mysterious and sudden death is linked to three others that happened at the exact same time. Investigating this lead, he visits the Villa Log Cabin where the four dead youths stayed a week before their deaths. There he finds a strange video that will change his life, for seven days, at least.

The idea and the story is a good one, and perhaps a 1990 satire on modern media leaving us all brain dead, who knows?! Enlisting the help of his friend, Ryuji, he searches for an answer to the 'charm' (it is continually referred to as) to lift the video's curse, and thus not die in seven day's time.

Much like the film, however, the two sequels are where things start to go wrong. 'Spiral' takes the theme to a new character, Ando, a doctor that carried out an autopsy on *spoiler-alert* Ryuiji's body. Ando, for some reason, seems to believe that Ryuji is trying to leave him a message in his DNA structure, using random code-breaking techniques from his college days to form a rather unlikely, and largely meaningless, message. This leads Ando to go through the same journey as Asakawa, only with less information, with DNA investigations, re-births and the 'virus' switching to book form following.

The third in the trilogy, that I hadn't previously read, 'Loop' gets even more far-fetched, with third main character, Kaoru, a student doctor, using some random thing he looked at as a child to try and solve the mystery of the new cancerous virus that is spreading across the world.   

I first read 'Ring' and 'Spiral' when I was a student, a good decade ago, when I was definitely less well-read. One problem of being slightly more well-read is that I have recently read 'Robin Ince's Bad Book Club', particularly the thrillers chapter. Ince's description of thrillers is that they are overly long, filled with unnecessary descriptions of clothing and naked breasts, designed more to just keep the reader amused rather than provoke thought. They are simply written, with everything explained, re-explained and again, to make a lengthy book to justify your buying it. All three of these books are long, particularly 'Loop', and - while this may be due to the translation - are quite simply written, particularly 'Loop'. 'Spiral' features an entire chapter that summarises 'Ring', and 'Loop' in turn has chapter dedicated to summarising 'Ring' and 'Spiral', as you go round-and-round - how possibly intentional?!

I enjoyed 'Ring', was less enthused by 'Spiral', and was just bored by 'Loop'. Things are just taken a bit too far here and it becomes a little over-indulgent. The 'Ringu' trilogy is about a video that spawned a book that lead to a major virus. The reality is that this was a book that spawned a film that spawned a DVD empire in the West, that lead to endless over-indulgent copy-cats, that quickly saw companies fold.

As with the first book, 'Ring', making copies only leads to problems, and turning a good book into a trilogy only serves to spoil the original. It should probably have just been left at that.

Ring

Days to read: 18

Days per book: 14.7

Spiral

Days to read: 14

Days per book: 14.7

Loop

Days to read: 15

Days per book: 14.7   

Fresh Dressed (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Sacha Jenkins is a journalist I have heard of. I have two books that he co-wrote, in fact: one about hip hop; the other about racism. Both are hilarious. But there's more to Jenkins that cheap laughs, a mainstay of hip hop journalism in the Nineties, he is a man that can speak with authority about hip hop: old school, new school, true school, take you to school.

So, apparently there hasn't been a documentary made about hip hop fashion. Well, there has now. Attire has always been an important part of hip hop, from the olden days of early B' boys, to the designer brand-obsessed raps of the Nineties, to idiotically-dressed pop figures, such as Kanye West and Pharrell Williams. And this is where the film starts.

To start, I was confused. The opening credits, featured embedded interviews with West, Williams and Sean 'Puffy' Combs, of whatever he goes by these days. My expectations from the title and promotional literature I had perused suggested that this would largely be a film about the 'fresh' Eighties, with a 'where'd you get those?' outlook. Instead, I was seeing modern-day megastars discussing their definitions of 'fresh.'

But then things arrive where I was expecting them to be. Starting off with the days of slavery Jenkins does a quick tour of American history, most specifically African-American history, starting with the ideas of 'Sunday best', moving through various musical ages, before approaching the Seventies and the advent of hip hop, and more importantly, its style borne of gang culture. He then moves to the Eighties, and Dapper Dan's 'improved' Louis Vuitton styles that features heavily on many a classic rap album cover.

But then, as with hip hop, we go mainstream as we enter the Nineties, focusing on brands like Cross Colours and Karl Kani, as designers matched their styles to rappers, ensuring that every item they wore heavily featured their brand - something that rappers were only too happy to oblige with.

But things have moved very quickly here, and the vast majority of the film is interviews with designers, and the hip hop figures that have crossed-over into fashion. Business takes over, with discussions about how best to market your brand / oneself. Sean Combs becomes a central figure of the documentary, discussing his cross-over success, now more an entrepreneur than rapper.

This focus disappoints for me. I was much more expecting an exploration of kids' homemade styles, customising their gear to ensure they are fresher than fresh. Instead, this is more an exploration of a small section of the fashion industry, with lots of interviews with middle-aged business executives. It seems that, with the help of Executive Producer Nas, Jenkins makes the most of the interviews he got with some A-list names.

But this is Sacha Jenkins we're talking about here, and so all this business talk is put into a context. Combs, with Sean John, has been a success in 'hip hop fashion', but it seems a lot of his success is due to dropping the hip hop associations. With its Nineties peak, hip hop dominated fashion, with rappers in ads everywhere and big name designers following rappers. Rappers, in turn, set up their own brands, most of which lived short lives. The major labels will always be there, but their association with hip hop was a temporary fad, with more conventional styles the new order of the day.

What starts as innocent Eighties 'freshness' moves to Nineties 'ghetto fabulous' to big money making. The times have changed, and with kids customising their gang colours, owning one's rivals clothes was a sign of conquering their turf. But now, kids get killed over coats of brands they can barely pronounce. Just like hip hop, creative innocence has been lost to the quest for money, making this a hip hop story through-and-through. Though maybe a little more of the old would have made this a little more fresh.

Stretch and Bobbito: Radio That Changed Lives (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

I'm pretty sure I've got a shoebox or two of endless minutes of recorded-off-the-radio hip hop from the Nineties. Sadly, growing up in Luton, I had to make do with Tim Westwood's 'Radio 1 Rap Show' every Friday night at 11-2AM and every Saturday, 9-midnight. The Friday night show was usually better. Every week, I would record all six hours, sometimes adding some minutes from Big Ted and Shortee Bltiz' show on Kiss FM. I would then edit them down, eliminating what I already had or what Lil' Kim had ruined. This was pretty much my life circa '98-'01.

If, however, you were (un)lucky enough to have grown up in New York throughout the Nineties, you would have been able to do the same thing, though to the selections of the much better 'Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito Show'. If you were one of them there rappers with any ounce of skill, you would probably have made your way on to their college broadcast show every Thursday; a show from which the titular pair made little to negative money, but created a lifetime of memories.

Now, in 2015, with the twenty-fifth anniversary of their first broadcast together a week away, or something, Bobbito Garcia has trawled the archives of the video and tape recordings of the show to tell the story of the 'greatest radio show of all time' according to someone.

With a documentary such as this, you don't need too much of a story around it: all you need is some interviews with some people involved and the music will speak for itself. This was the approach for 'The Art of Rap' and is Garcia's approach here. Though there is some contextualising.

To start, we are introduced to the two men themselves: Adrian 'Stretch Armstrong' Bartos and Robert 'Bobbito' Garcia, with interviews with their parents, photos of their school days and some brief storytelling as to how they both found hip hop and in turn each other. Then, they decided to make a college radio show together.

What then follows is about an hour of the duo interviewing various hip hop heads that appeared on the show, all with an accompanying walkman to play the classic freestyles they once said about two decades ago. The likes of Jay-Z, Nas, Eminem, Raekwon, Redman, as well as people you've heard of, all take time to listen to the memories and wax lyrical about just how important the show was for MCs in launching their careers.

But, with a rap radio show only being as good as the rap music on offer, from 1996 onwards, with the decline in the quality of music felt by both, as well as criticism arising from their switch to Hot 97, the pair started a passive aggressive battle of wills, with the more beat-minded Stretch playing increasing ignorant raps to intentionally annoy the more lyrically-focused Bobbito. The show, therefore ended with the decline in hip hop, before a twentieth anniversary reunion show was made in 2010. So, with the twenty-fifth anniversary, they made a documentary.

Everything about this documentary is fun. This is two people doing what they do for the fun of it, loving every minute and barely earning a dollar for the privilege. This is reflected in the film, with both in good spirits throughout the interviews, showing the good rapport they had on the show, and with the hip hop elite.

The music speaks for itself, with endless clips of live freestyles from some of the best wordsmiths available, leaving the audience to HOLLLLLLLLERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

This is probably one more for true heads, who will love it, but can provide an education for those less in the know. It brings back memories and will show you some things you may have missed. This is hip hop for the sheer joy of it and a reminder as to why we followed that path.
 

Ruined Heart: Another Lover Story Between a Criminal and a Whore (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

I'm not quite sure why I decided to watch this film. Perhaps it was that the cinematographer was Christopher Doyle. Maybe it was that it starred Tadanobu Asano. Or, more likely, my extensive knowledge and love of Filipino cinema.

Either way, by the end, I don't believe any of these were reason enough to view this again. Directed by Khavn, this is essentially a seventy minute long music video. With no real narrative to speak of, this is a collection of arthouse shots to an interesting - and I mean interesting - musical score of various genres of interesting - and I mean hmm - music.

The viewer, therefore, is left to put the pieces of the story together themselves, with plot-holes throughout as the scene constantly changes.

Visually, there are some nice moments here, naturally with a film featuring Christopher Doyle as cinematographer. Tadanobu Asano often takes the role of cameraman during the film - as well as the amateur musician that he is - running around with a fisheye lens at the end of his plastered arm.

With music a key feature and Christopher Doyle involved, you can compare this to a Nineties Wong Kar-wai; the musical interludes in his films, of course. Here, however, Khavn has decided against fitting them around a real story, making them more a random collection of moments. Even if you do put the story together, it isn't exactly a life-changer.

For me, this film is just trying to be too cool. The, at times, over-stylised shots just seem to end up being an excuse for lots of gyrating hips; the nameless characters, such as 'The Criminal' or 'The Whore', reflect the lack of depth in the characterisation and storyline; and everything's just a little too 'abstract' to be enjoyable.

There are moments to this film: the street running and car montages, but these should serve as links in a more conventional film, rather than serving as stand-out segments in a string of segments. Things just don't really connect here.

If you want Christopher Doyle cinematography over music, it has been done much better before. If you want Asano giving a cool performance, he's given better, with more interesting characters to work with. The trailer was quite good, but that's essentially what this film feels like: a collection of scenes edited together to some music; story to follow. But, at the end of the day, there just weren't enough midgets with skateboards in the orgy scene for me.

Yakuza Apocalypse (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Takashi Miike isn't quite as prolific as he used to be at his height around fifteen years ago. Now, he works to a casual two or three films a year, rather than his exhausting six or seven on the early Naughties. But, has the drop in quantity resulted in a upturn in quality?

Miike films have always been up and down in terms of quality, switching from bigger budget films, like 'Audition' and 'Ichi the Killer' to low-rent, low quality dross, such as 'Silver' or 'Family'. But this was always Miike's charm. The switching of budget, writers, cast, styles and genres resulted in a lot of experimenting, with ideas from the bad benefiting the good.

Now established and of international renown, his films come with anticipation and expectation - maybe to his films' detriment. He could make a bad film before, and no one would realise. Now if he does we'll all hear about it. Recent films, such as '13 Assassins', 'For Love's Sake, 'Hara-kiri' and 'Lessons of Evil' show a more established director, trusted with bigger budgets and international film festival screenings. And while these have their moments, they are not quite as fun and inventive as his earlier works.

'Yakuza Apocalypse' is his latest film to come with a hint of anticipation as to what might be. With his need to cover each and every genre, we now see him take on the vampire film, set among the yakuza. Kamiura is a local yakuza boss, with the respect of those around him. But he has a secret: he's a yakuza vampire, if there is such a thing. This, however, attracts some unwanted attention, and he is destroyed by his rivals. Though before his demise, he bites his loyal lieutenant, Kageyama, transferring his powers unto him. Seen as a Matrix-style 'The One' , he sets about getting revenge, though by this point, ordinary civilians have turned into yakuza vampires themselves, creating a world of chaos where the old, everyday yakuza have no place.

Being a vampire film, this is of course very silly, with moments that make me largely avoid ever watching films of this ilk, actors tested in their ability to give the most stupid of performances with a straight face. This does add a sense of fun to the film and comparisons to his Nineties films 'Fudoh' and 'Full metal Yakuza' can be made, taking a more zany and comic-book approach to the yakuza genre. Indeed, 'Yakuza Apocalypse' very much feels like it could have been a manga, and I'm surprised one hasn't yet been made - to the best of my knowledge, anyway.

However, the aforementioned films had a bit more edge to them than 'Yakuza Apocalypse'. There's something about the handheld camerawork and straight-to-video feel of these films that suits the more outlandish style, rather than the big sets and production values of his more recent films. The kappa and costumed characters are fun, but feel a bit weird for the sake of being weird, perhaps over-used to the point where it can become a bit farcical. The final fight scene between Kageyama and 'The Raid 2's' Yayan Ruhian is unnecessarily overdrawn, with little real action and suits as a disappointing end, a far cry from the unexpected and instant conclusion of 'Dead or Alive'.

But if you take away any serious attempts at analysis, this is a fun film, with a little bit of everything thrown in. The cast is full of known people, with Hayato Ichihara looking suitably half alive as Kageyama throughout and appearing-everywhere-now Kiyohiko Shibukawa expressing his full range of bemused faces.  

At his best, Miike's films are easily watchable over and over. His more recent films, while enjoyable on first viewing, are less repeatable, and so it will remain to be seen whether 'Yakuza Apocalypse' sits nicely alongside his extensive catalogue of experiments that, while varying in quality, always create curiosity. 

  

Right Now, Wrong Then (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Hong Sang-soo's 'Hill of Freedom' was my pick of last year's London Film Festival, as a short comedy about a Japanese man arriving in Seoul, searching for his loved one. Another year and another fish-out-of-water love story comes from Hong for 2015, in what has become quite a familiar pattern of drunken tales of love over alcohol.

To start, you may be confused that you got the film title wrong. The screen fills with 'Right Then, Wrong Now' as director Ham is stuck with little to do in a Suwon, visiting to introduce his film at the local film festival. Spying an attractive, young lady, he starts small talk with her, discovering she's an artist. Moving the conversation about banana milk along, the share a coffee before moving to her studio, out for sushi, ending at her friend's cafe for some further late night beverages. The story comes to an end half-way through, only for the screen to now fill with the film's actual title, 'Right Now, Wrong Then', and the story is played out all over again.

Now, I've never see 'Sliding Doors', and I've never thought about how different my life would be if I had seen it, much like the character's experience resulting from a missed Tube - largely because I know my life would be much the same had I seen 'Sliding Doors', apart from now writing this sentence. But that's sort of how this film pans out: how different would things have been if you'd taken a different approach. It's probably better, therefore, to compare it more to Kiyoshi Kurosawa's 'Serpent's Path/Eyes of the Spider'.

Here, Hong takes the same basic premise, the same characters, but takes a different direction, creating two stories out of one. The first half, 'Right Then...' shows the couple hit it off early doors, with romance developing between the two as the day goes on and the alcohol drowns. However, revelations when introducing her famous new 'friend' Ham to her group of friends make Hee-jeong suddenly feel cheated, with the evening coming to an abrupt end. The second part, 'Right Now...' sees a slow start between the couple, with honest and open comments coming from Ham about his wife and children and critique of her artwork. That out of the way, she has no expectations of him, though gradually she warms to him, with strong feelings developing by the end.

This, therefore, is the same film played out twice, arriving at a different conclusion. Some might say that this film is like Hong's whole career, with a slightly older male (a teacher, a director, etc.) falling for a slightly younger female (a student, novice artist, etc.), played out with a quirky gimmick and lots of long discussions over alcohol throughout, leading to many inebriated revelations. Indeed, you could say that 'Right Now, Wrong Then' has no gimmick, as all Hong's films are similar anyway - making the same characters and scenario simply more of the same, it's just this time he's been more obvious about it.

There is some truth in this, though this is probably something that could be pointed at most directors. While his films are of a similar theme, each has its own charm and level of enjoyment. Whether it's 'Hahaha's' still photos or 'Hill of Freedom's' lack of chronological letters, he adds a little post-modern twist of originality to each of his films, and serve as an example of how a different approach can create a different film.

There's more morality to 'Right Now, Wrong Then', with the humour more subtle than the broken English of 'Hill of Freedom'. In the first half, Ham isn't fully honest with Hee-jeong, or indeed himself, and the relationship develops, only for it to be abruptly ended on a hint of truth being revealed. The second half sees him more open from the start with Hee-jeong, and by the end, she is sad to see him leave, left with only the whimsy of what might have been (awwwwww), and a much happier conclusion for both.

With his style of film-making, with lots of dialogue over long takes, the actors need to have a good rapport and sense of believability within them, and here Jeong Jay-yeong and Kim Min-hee deliver enough of this. The first half sees them carefree and in good humour, while in the second they're more sombre and cold.

The similar scenario of both makes this obviously a little repetitive, and slightly over-long, compared to the shorter and snappier 'Hill of Freedom'. But with this, Hong has created a strong addition to his distinctive brand of cinema, getting it right in the end.

But, taking the moral high ground or not, either way Ham sleeps alone...

Son of Saul (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Hungary is not a country to globally famous for its modern cinema, though manages to scrape a film or two into the London Film Festival line-up, which I, of course, now have to go and see. This year, with its one fine, Hungary sees itself nominated for the Official Competition with the Cannes Grand Prix-winning 'Son of Saul'.

Now, I'm no expert on Hungarian cinema, or cinema from any nation to that matter, but the Hungarian cinema I've seen tends to focus more on the darker side of life, be it black comedy or World War II drama. With 'Son of Saul', László Nemes' debut feature, we see an intense drama set in a concentration camp in Auschwitz.

Saul is a Hungarian Sonderkommando in a camp, tasked with cleaning up the dead from the gas chambers. When a young boy is found choking when performing their duties, Saul witnesses German soldiers suffocate him. Saul then makes it his mission to give the boy a decent burial, hiding the boy's body while he seeks a rabbi, against the will of his fellow Sonderkommandos, whom plot their escape.

'Son of Saul', therefore is very much a film about an individual, as one man fights against an oppressive regime and his fellow prisoners, in an attempt to feel human again. With this the case, director Nemes chose to film almost from first person perspective, with the camera trained over Saul's shoulder or on his face throughout. Long takes with this cinematography create a very intense and personal experience, as the viewer experiences every step of Saul's journey.

In what is a difficult subject matter to tackle, Nemes uses a unique approach to create a very personal film, that the viewer feels every step of the way. It is a film that is cramped, uncomfortable and furious, dynamic and inventive in its approach in what is very good filmmaking from a debuting director.

  

My Love, Don't Cross That River (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Last year at the London film Festival, my choice of the films I watched was South Korea's Hong Sang-soo's gentle comedy, 'Hill of Freedom'. I will also be taking in his latest work, 'Right Now, Wrong Then' at this year's festival, but before that, South Korea was represented by Jin Mo-young's documentary 'My Love, Don't Cross that River'.   

'My Love, Don't Cross that River' is a film of two halves. We start at the film's inevitable conclusion, but are quickly moved into the story of life-ling married couple, Jo Byeong-man and Kang Kye-yeol. Married for seventy-six years, the pair now spend their days in and around their home, playing with their dogs and frolicking like little children in love.

This documentary, without narration, watches them together as they go about their daily business, shopping, performing chores and having their many children and grandchildren visit. Director Jin Mo-young sets out to paint a picture of a couple very much in love, still after a whole lifetime together.

However, with Byeong-man now approaching one-hundred years-old it is clear that their seventy-six years of married life are drawing to a close. The documentary soon switches from a joyful tale of love to a distressing piece on mortality and how all good things must come to an end.

With his health deteriorating, Byeong-man can no longer perform his role as the man, confined to lying, coughing a spluttering, sharing final moments with his six surviving children. Kye-yeol, however, can only sit and watch, preparing herself for the inevitable, performing his last rites.

We start off in bright and joyful mode, with an easy to watch story about an ageing couple. By the end, we are left with everyone in tears, with the final forty minutes a struggle to sit through as we watch a dying man in his last moments, while his wife and family come to terms with it, as all good things must come to an end.

Without yang, there is no yin, without death, there is no life, without Byeong-man, there is no Kye-yeol. Jin's documentary has gone on to become the highest grossing independent film or documentary in Korean history, and it's not hard to see why. He lets the camera roll and the narrative come out naturally, in what could have easily become forced and lacking respect.

'My Love, Don't Cross that River' is, at times, uncomfortable viewing, but so is life, reminding us that with every up there must be a down.

Ryuzo and his Seven Henchmen (BFI 59th London Film Festival Part I)

I'm going all out over the next week or so. This year, I've selected eight, count them, films to see at this: the 59th BFI London Film Festival. Mixing in a lot of influences on my life, I shall be taking in films from Japan, Korea, Hungary, the Philippians (?) and a couple of hip hop documentaries from the US of States.  

I've gone from some surprising selections, not so much based on what I selected, but in what I didn't choose to see - with only so much time in such a short period, I can't see everything. So, the new works by some of my favourites, such as Kore-eda Hirokazu, Johnnie To and Jia Zhang-ke, as well as a documentary about the latter.

This year's festival features some returns from those that made popularised contemporary Japanese cinema in the West, with new films from Takeshi Kitano, Takashi Miike and the latest offering from 'Ringu' director Hideo Nakata. But, are these returns to form? Let's find out, ahhhhhh...

You couldn't put much wrong with Kitano's works in the Nineties: Some yakuza/police classics, with 'Sonatine' and 'Hana-bi' widely regarded as among some of the best Japanese films of the last three decades. There was the slightly out-of-place 'Scene at the Sea' and the delightfully awful 'Getting Any?', but generally, you knew you were getting some quality.

The last fifteen years, however, have been a less enjoyable ride. They started reasonably well with 'Brother', 'Dolls' and 'Zatoichi', but since then, there has been little to shout about. Over a decade has brought the ambitious, but confused 'Takeshis'; the enjoyable, but relatively ordinary 'Outrage' films; the okay 'Achilles and the Tortoise'; and the at times bizarre and boring 'Glory to the Filmmaker'. While fans in the West may have over-estimated their brilliance, blinded by love of his earlier works, these a hardly works by a master.

Kitano is a man that can wear many hats (not literally usually), and his films can take many forms. With his latest work, 'Ryuzo and his Seven Henchmen', Kitano is in comedy mode, telling the story of retired yakuza, Ryuzo, who reunites his old gang to start a new, ageing 'family' to claim back their old turf from the younger, more corporate group who are currently in control.

Naturally, a comedy about ageing yakuza is going to be of the slapstick variety - there is nothing serious to be considered here. What we have are eight bizarre characters, each with his own idiosyncrasies. Though this is not so much the case, with only around half of them actually getting much individual screen-time for character development, serving as little more than comic cameos. This isn't exactly 'Seven Samurai'.

Forming their new family, they set about taking on corporate organisations and Keihin United, led by the supposedly slick Nishi. But soon things go wrong, resulting in the sort of farcical ending you expect from a - I'm going to say it - knockabout comedy. Kitano himself makes a cameo as a similarly ageing policeman as 'Beat' Takeshi, and his brief appearance serves as a metaphor (a meta for what?!) or how much thought has gone into this one.

Now, taking my Radio 4 hat off and putting my 'movie-goer' one on, was I entertained? Kitano's last few films has suggested he isn't going to be making the artistic films of his Nineties peak. Is it silly, yes; is it stupid, yes. Is it funny, in parts; was I entertained, yes.

Like Ryuzo, Kitano is not a young man anymore, and his films will not have the edge and violence of his earlier works; this is a gentler age. There are some moments of nice film-making, with the scene where the old yakuza calculate their criminal points, sat around with a revolving camera capturing the moment in one take. But there is less of the artistry these days, with this a movie to be enjoyed rather than a film to be critiqued.

Maybe I am one of those Westerners that search for too much meaning in the films of the 'enigmatic Kitano': the Japanese TV personality or global auteur. 'Ryuzo and his Seven Henchmen' is entertaining enough, but I always found his most funny films to be those that aren't comedies.

Still, someone who hides in toilets to stick a knife up his enemies' bums is always good for a laugh...

Politic 27

Japanese funky drums and De La Soul...

...The ones that can be found are hear...

Retara (A White Sunday) - Michita feat. Youko Toyokawa

Hikaru Basho - Evisbeats
Probability - DJ Krush

The Future is in our hands - The Blue Herb

対話 - Libro
雨降り野月曜 - Libro
自己嫌悪 - キミドリ

ありきたりなストーリー - Itto feat. ゆり花, WATT a.k.a. ヨッテルブッテル

イメジ - BASI乾杯 - 鎮座DOPENESS
そうそうきょく - 環ROY
Tread Water - De La Soul

I Am I Be - De La Soul

Sitting in my Chair - Itto feat. Evisbeats

Moment of Truth - Gang Starr

That Day - Oddisee feat. Muhsinah

Funky Drummer - James Brown

It's a Demo - Kool G Rap and DJ Polo

Rebel Without A Pause - Public Enemy

Lyrics of Fury - Erib B and Rakim

When A Wise Man Speaks - The 45 King and Lakim Shabazz

Lyrics to Go - A Tribe Called Quest

Strange Light - DJ Krush feat. Free the Robots

Them That's Not - J-Live

夜風に吹かれて - PunchとMighty and Evisbeats

Sampling is Fun 5

Selective sounds of the nerdy drummer...

Pull back the cover...


Cut off the lights...


And call the law...


Bring on the juice...


Still good...


Turn over...


About to work me to death...

Raindance Film Festival 2015: Obon Brothers

There's something about a slow, black comedy about society's less-than-productive members shot in black and white. Jim Jarmusch's 'Coffee and Cigarettes'; Kevin Smith's 'Clerks'; other ones, which brings me to Kiyohiko Shibukawa and his role in 'And the Mud Ship Sails Away...': the black and white debut from Hirobumi Watanabe about a low life in a small town which ends as a psychedelic art piece. Shibukawa has been keeping himself busy of late, and again takes to a black and white screen to play a small town low life in Akira Osaki's second feature 'Obon Brothers'.

Takashi is the director of one film - seemingly, not much has gone his way since. Self-unemployed, failing to get any scripts funded and kicked out by his wife, he uses his brother's colon cancer and the need for a live-in carer as an excuse to put his life on hold and move back to a small town in Gunma. Spending his days cooking for his brother, he tries to claw back his old life, pitching weak film scripts and trying to talk his wife away from divorce papers.

His brother, Wataru, on the other hand, seems not to care for Takashi's car, mocking him for losing his wife, seemingly wishing he'd leave him in peace with his record player, piano and artificial anus. Takashi's life soon becomes one of falsehood, rejecting the advances of Ryoko, whom his best friend, Fujimura, set him up with. Living in hope that his old life will return, he quickly resorts to alcohol to avoid the reality of his present.

All good comedy needs a bit of soul, and much as Dante realises that he 'needs to shit or get off the pot' (not via an artificial anus, of course) at the conclusion of 'Clerks', Takashi is soon put in his place by those around him, realising that the ones he loves can no longer bring themselves to see him in such a funk; crushed alcohol cans following him wherever he goes.

Director Osaki stated that the film was 'about 60% autobiographical' when he appeared at the UK Premiere, dressed in a yukata and hat. He then subsequently went on to reveal how much of the film is similar to his own life: Osaki, from Gunma, directed one film previously a decade ago, sharing his writing with a close friend, with a family member that suffered from cancer. 'Obon Brothers', as a result, doesn't simply fit in a genre such as a comedy, but is more a piece of realism.

The black and white take any 'movie gloss' off the film, with long takes of harsh and honest dialogue. Everyone around Takashi's lives, no matter how seemingly bad, take better shape than the healthy and 'successful' life he believes he can return to. There are not too many huge revelations here, or happy endings like in the movies; but more the need to get on with life rather than living in the past. 'Obon Brothers' is a comedy in the sense that life is a funny ol' game.