When you look back on your life, what will your overall assessment of it
be? Many would probably not like the results, finding fault in decision-making
and turning points where the wrong direction was taken. What if it could have
all been different?!
Two films that take a look back over a life – the Korean ‘Peppermint
Candy’ directed by Chang-dong Lee; and the Japanese ‘The Story of Yonosuke’ by
Shuichi Okita – are films similar in theme, though very different in their
outlook of the lives they cover. Where there is joy, there is sadness; where
there is laughter, there are tears; where there is innocence, there is guilt.
‘Peppermint Candy’ starts at the end: a student reunion twenty years on
from a picnic sees a violent, drunk and lost Yong Ho disrupt the party;
belligerent to his former friends. Ignored as he grows more uncontrolled, the
group notice that Yong Ho is stood on the train tracks as an oncoming train
approaches. Opening his arms, he embraces his demise. We are then taken on a
reverse train ride through the life of Yong Ho to various key moments where his
character is beaten, to see how an innocent student became a suicidal mad man.
‘The Story of Yonosuke’, on the other hand, starts in the present, where
Yoko receives a letter reminding her of her boyfriend from her days at
University. Not just Yoko, however, various others at University with Yonosuke
Yokomichi are given call to reminisce over the friend they had back in the
1980s. Each looks back with fond memories and a laugh on their face as they
remember their extraordinarily ordinary friend.
There is a clear difference here straightaway: ‘Peppermint Candy’ looks
at the negative impact that Yong Ho has had on the lives of those around him,
and vice versa; while ‘The Story of Yonosuke’ reflects only on the positive
impact the lead had on each of the lives he touched. The starting point for
both characters is different, but as the film progresses, we learn that both,
while students, had ambitions of being photographers.
Yonosuke is a country bumpkin moving to Tokyo, with unusual and bemusing
mannerisms that those around him cannot help but find endearing…eventually. In
his charming naivety, he finds himself at a photography exhibition, and soon
becomes drawn to the art form. Yong Ho, we learn at the film’s conclusion, is
quite a passionate young man, wanting to photograph ‘nameless flowers’, looking
to the soon-to-be-named Sunim, who saves her money to buy him a camera.
Both have a naïve innocence about them at this stage in their lives,
though only one will be able to maintain it. Yong Ho is soon tainted by his
army service, accidentally shooting a young girl; and further corrupted by
joining the police force, turning him into an aggressive and violent character.
His new-found domineering personality soon finds him success in setting up his
own business and playing the stock market, only to become embittered by his
ex-wife, former business partner and cheating financial adviser, leaving him
with nothing.
Yong Ho loses control over his life, and indeed his dream. In the army,
he is ordered around, not cut out for the way of life. But it leaves a clear
impression on him, and his return sees him unruly and unlike the young man he
was before. His time at the police only worsens him further, with their
underhanded tactics for getting confessions removing all morality from him. He
becomes a man only after more money and more affairs with young women,
alienating him from his wife and daughter, until all is lost.
Yonosuke, however, is a man devoid of any corruption. His simple ways
show a man unconcerned by the opinions of those around him, happily going about
his business. He has little in the way of preconceptions, and simply takes
things as they come. Yong Ho becomes an embittered man, whereas Yonosuke
remains a child, following his own intrigue. As the story progresses, we learn
that Yonosuke did indeed become a professional photographer: his maintaining of
this childish intrigue taking him there, while Yong Ho’s was quickly lost when
serving in the army.
It is fair to say that the Korean film is more of a somewhat bleak look
at life, with a focus on where it all went wrong; while the Japanese looks at
what made things right for Yonosuke, more joyful in its outlook. Though the
films are laced with similarities throughout.
Being films about stories of individual lives, they are both quite long.
But, happily broken up into mini tales of different stages, they do not become
too overbearing and are easy to digest, with a central arc to take us to the
next: ‘Peppermint Candy’ takes us on a musical interlude with a reversing
train; while ‘The Story of Yonosuke’ sees a different individual look back on
the life of Yonosuke now they are older.
With some nice pacing, we learn that Yonosuke too – starting as a student
with photography ambitions – is also killed by a train, though in very
different circumstances. Yong Ho kills himself feeling that all is lost,
whereas Yonosuke selflessly helps someone in danger, putting himself at risk. Yonosuke’s
life is to be celebrated, while the sad demise of Yong Ho will probably see few
mourn. In both, the message is that following your own path and not letting it
be misdirected by others is perhaps the best way to go – as simple as it
sounds, but as difficult as it is to live.
Both also offer a chance for reflection and point the question back to us
about how our own lives have progressed: Were they happy or sad journeys?; and
were they happy or sad outcomes? The starting point may be the same, and the
final conclusion may be the same, but how we got there is very different.
As ‘Peppermint Candy’ concludes, with Yong Ho looking up at a passing
train on the line that twenty years later will kill him, he looks forward to
his life, while we look back on what he has become.
