Same Again...?

South Korean director Hong Sang-soo is a man that can be easily associated with that popular and age-old joke: ‘A South Korean film director walks into a bar…etc., etc., etc.’ Pretty much all of his films revolve around people sitting in some sort of establishment where alcoholic beverages can be purchased, discussing the ins and outs of their – usually sex – life, as the booze continues to flow. Most of the lead characters (typically male) are artistically-troubled film directors, serving in roles of university lecturers and film festival panels, where younger and more female humans are their subordinates, leading the still young enough Mr Director to try and make his power remove their underwear. If it’s in a drunkenly awkward scenario, the better.

Soo, what am I saying?! All of his films are the same?! That is something that could very much be said. A large proportion of his films revolve around a very similar premise and, being in the more art wing of the house, plot and story development are not major players. So, it could be interpreted that this is a one-trick pony, making the same old film yet again, which you didn’t much care for in the first place, like a sporting team that loses every week, never learning from their mistakes.

Interpretation number one out of the bag, what’s the second? A more positive light on his films would suggest a director exploring the different directions his characters can go, both within films themselves, but also throughout his body of work. Starting from the same point, he explores the right moves, the wrong moves, the very wrong moves, with good ol’ Captain Hindsight there at the end to let the protagonists know what they should have done. Life can switch in a moment, depending on a (usually drunken) impulse and can lead us to many different stories and success with each option open to us. The characters often languish in melancholy, unaware as to how much they truly are in control of their own destiny.

‘HaHaHa’ (2010) is a brilliantly-named film, though, as with most Hong films, is not as laugh-out-loud (that’s how you spell LOL) funny as the title would suggest. Two friends, one obviously a film director, meet for drinks before the filmmaker jets off for Canada. They discuss their recent adventures over beverages, discovering they have both just been to their small home town. Discussions soon turn to the fairer sex (sexist) and, known to the audience, but unbeknownst to them, they had both been having fun with the same girl while in town.

The shots of the present conversation are still in black and white, with the dialogue flowing over them, before the memoirs are played out for the camera; perhaps the film’s ‘gimmick.’ The two leads are pawns for the audience as we can laugh at the pair ending up in the same places with the same faces, though each is unaware that this was the case, with the same scenario played out, though the lead male changing each time.

This is an archetypal Hong film, involving drinking, liaisons with women, a film director, and repeating the same scenario to different outcomes. A subtle comedy, as they all are, what differentiates this film is the still shots to accompany the initial recollections before switching to the action and the male protagonist changing alternately.

Similar to this, but just involving one man, who works in film, are ‘The Day He Arrives’ and the recent ‘Right Now, Wrong Then’. In the former, a film lecturer arrives in Seoul to meet up with a friend for a few days. Along the way, he bumps into various characters and ends up in various amorous situations. The next day, he bumps into the same various characters and once again ends up in various amorous situations.

A 'Groundhog Day' scenario, the 'hero' essentially lives the same day three times, the people he meets and places he winds up the same, though the journey of the day varies each time. This, therefore, feels a little like watching a spot-the-difference competition, essentially watching the same short three times, just with some tweaks to the dialogue but always resulting in drunken conversations and lip-locking. This is very much a Hong film.

'Right Now, Wrong Then' follows this idea of the same situation being played out, though this time only twice: A film director gives an introduction to his new film at a provincial film festival. Bored for what to do next, he meets a young artist and the two gradually get talking, visiting her apartment, going for sushi and late-night drinking. To start, things go well, only for the relationship of the pair to worsen as the story progresses. This is 'Right Then, Wrong Now'. But we're only halfway through the film.

The second half starts 'Right Now, Wrong Then', with the same scenario played through, though this time the meeting of the pair starts off less than friendly and gradually becomes warmer as the story progresses. The main reason for this is the revelations that the director offers. First time around, he is flirtatious, wanting to meet the undies of the young artist, not revealing he is married, so when the truth comes out, it hurts. Second time around, he is more honest, letting it be known that he is married to start, perhaps why things are more cold to start. But as they get to know each other, feelings develop more.

A repeated criticism of Hong's films is that there is little end point to them: They are drunken bumbles that end up in poorly judged intercourse. Though 'Right Now, Wrong Then' has a bit more to it than that, looking at the nature of truth in relationships and how honesty is probably the best policy.

All of Hong's films have a fish out of water element, with people arriving in places somewhat alien to them. 'Hill of Freedom', perhaps my favourite Hong film, features Japanese actor-man, Ryo Hase arriving in Seoul, a former linguistic teacher there, searching for a former student he fell in love with. But she's not there; sick, she has gone to the mountains to recuperate. Left on his own, he spends his days drinking with locals, sleeping with women and speaking hilariously broken English. Most of this is in English, making this perhaps Hong's most outwardly humorous film.

With her not there, he writes her letters, leaving them at her school reception. Though when she collects them, she drops them, losing their chronology. with no dates added, she reads them at random, the film played-out with no order of which to speak, again adding to the humour.

While still featuring a male role superior to that of his female love interest, this is something of a different film in that no one admits to being a film director. Rather than repeating stories with slightly different journeys, here Hong plays with non-linear storytelling. This is perhaps why it is quite short. Though kept light, here he is more creative and varied with his ideas.

The Japanese dealt with, Hong has also looked at Europeans in South Korea, namely the French. Though for 'In Another Country', Hong offers more of his usual offering. A writer starts a story about a French film director, naturally, arriving in a small sea-side town. Here she sits about, drinks, eats, gets bored, looks for a lighthouse and gets flirty with the local life guard. The same story is then told again twice, with the same cast, though the characters change each time, apart from the life guard.

Firstly, she is a French film director; secondly she is a woman arriving to meet her film director lover in secret as they have their affair; thirdly she is a woman recently divorced, her husband having left her for a Korean women.

Being a white woman, perhaps Hong is commenting on Korean attitudes towards Western women, everyone telling her she is beautiful, when all three guises of 'Anna' (played by real-life French female Isabelle Huppert) clearly are not. While the English dialogue is humorous in 'Hill of Freedom', here is too awkward, acted woodenly and none of the characters likeable. Here all Korean men are sexual predators and French women irritating and coquettish. There is no end to any of these three journeys, and this is a script that perhaps Hong should have left in another country.

Two potentially more conventional films from Hong are 'Nobody's Daughter Haewon' and 'Like You Know it All'. The latter features another film director in an unknown setting, taking on the role of panel judge in a small film festival. But he doesn't care much for it, more interested in one of the young organisers. Getting drunk, however, the night ends a mess, with the young female disappointed by him not taking a more senior role and protecting her when vulnerable. A falling out with a friend over his young wife also leaves him feeling a little mythed.

Taking some time off, he visits a film school where he lectures, meeting his old teacher, now married to his former lover. More drunken antics ensue, leaving our hero in a spot of bother, hapless when it comes to alcohol and women. Hong plays with Director Koo here, unwittingly finding himself in various scenarios where he ends up taking all the blame. Though as he keeps ending up in these scenarios, despite the new faces and different setting, he fails to learn from his mistakes, repeating the same scenarios. Ironically for a Hong film, however, this is more of a linear film, so while not a repeat of the same scenario, he is a man destined to go round in circles.

'Nobody's Daughter Haewon' has a similar elder man/younger female relationship, but is more from the perspective of the female, though not entirely. Feeling somewhat orphaned as her mother leaves for Canada, she re-ignites a secret affair with her former teacher. But spending time together, the secret is soon out, leaving Haewon feeling further alienated. More brooding than comedy, this is slightly more straightforward in terms of narrative, though is a somewhat complex piece.

These last two lack some of the ‘gimmicks’ of the previously mentioned, though are less distinct than some of his other works. Indeed, these 'gimmicks' can serve as the point of differentiation between his films: the stories similar, the way they are told is what you perhaps take away. Though not just similar thematically, Hong has a definite style exhibited throughout his films. His use of long takes gives a naturalistic feel to his films, the actors seeming to be thinking of what to say as the camera rolls, making it seem improvised and stuttering, though conversations don't really happen with the sharpness that films suggest. These long takes come with lengthy dialogue between characters, putting the world to rights over alcohol; the camera often zooming in to draw the audience to listen closely to what is being said.

This is a limited analysis of Hong's films, and I have not seen the full body of his works, though with a similar theme and style throughout, I'm not sure if I need to. Other directors with a similar number of titles to their name will have tried their hand at different genres and styles, though Hong prefers to stick to what he knows, perhaps the bumbling directors drunkenly floundering at younger women a reflection of his own life.

While for the most part enjoyable, perhaps it is time for Hong to call time on the drunken conversations in his films and head home to prepare himself for a new day and a new style. While each film has its own little gimmick, the fact that the characters and scenarios are largely interchangeable makes you sometimes feel you are watching the same again. 

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. 

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...

Hill Of Freedom (58th BFI London Film Festival Part I)

Last year at the 2013 BFI London Film Festival (BFILFF, kiddies) I felt like I let myself down. Of the four films I went to see, not one was Japanese. American, check; Hong Kongian, check; Hungarian, you bet; Chinese, of course. Japanese, no. Well, with the LFF's 58th incarnation, I felt I should put that right.

Adding two Japanese films, I saw a total of six of the however-many films that were on offer. Korean; check; British, check; Hungarian, not Czech; Chinese, checkers; American, no...celebrate!

First stop, Korea, Southern variety, and the charming 'Hill of Freedom'. Hong Sang-soo is the name of a director that I know. Having seen his 'Hahaha' a few years back, and remembering how it made me 'ha ha ha', I was looking forward to what appeared to be another comedy involving reminiscing and discussions over alcohol. Where 'Hahaha' used still photos while the conversation continued to flow, 'Hill of Freedom' uses another inventive technique for this not-always-so-subtle comedy.

Mori, played effectively by Japanese man Ryo Kase (you remember him), is a Japanese man returning to Korea for two weeks looking for the Korean student he fell in love with when working in Seoul as a language tutor. The Korean student, Kwon, unaware of his return, has also recently returned to Seoul after some time away recovering from illness under the care of a man combining being both a preacher and doctor. She finds she has been left a series of letters written by Mori in broken English. Dropping the letters, she loses the chronological order that Mori had clearly put them in, yet failed to date.

Kwon then begins to read the letters, which are acted out for us, but with the order now lost so the film now becomes a sprawling collection of mish-mash snips of Mori's time in Korea. This means things are seen before they actually happen (sort of) creating confusion for the audience (sort of). The chronology is not particularly distracting and adds a nice charm to the film, as well as some comedy moments.

The real comedy here, however, is the fact that this is a Korean film, centred around a Japanese man, that is acted largely in English. Mori's lack of Korean means he bumbles his way about a corner of Seoul where everybody just so happens to be relatively fluent in the Queen's. This presents lots of broken conversations and odd phrases uttered between the two clashing cultures, with 'you're a strange man' being met with 'you're a strange man.' Confusion is sometimes created and from thence the humour arose.

Mori's motivations are not always clear, in what is a short film, coming to Korea while unemployed with no real plan upon arrival except see Kwon, getting drunk with his guesthouse owner's nephew and flirting - and more - with a local cafe worker. Though his lack of direction is often questioned by the Koreans he comes into contact with, often mistaking him for an artist due to his scruffy appearance and daily sleeping habits. He is a man searching for something, whatever it may be.

But Hong keeps things light, showing that Mori is clearly troubled, but not diving too far in. Being a short film, just over an hour, this is probably a good thing, kept as a comedy, not a moody love story. The postscript ending is a clear sign of this, concluding a postmodern film about post.