In Our Day (2024)

Direction: Hong Sang-soo
Country: South Korea

Korean director Hong Sang-soo's 30th feature, In Our Day, is a breezy, minor effort that may not be particularly thought-provoking but is deeply explorative of life and art. With his trademark understated style, Hong once again embraces simplicity, allowing the melancholy undertones of the film to ebb and flow without pointing toward any specific destination.

In Our Day seems to carry an autobiographical touch, presenting two parallel stories that involve established artists and their younger admirers, who are curious about their careers and perspectives. The film’s naturalistic staging, dialogue, and human interactions lean toward minimalism, yet there are subtle but significant details woven throughout. It’s a double moral tale that gets the form of a plotless slow burn, stripped of complexity and anchored by serene performances from an ensemble cast that makes it as breezy as a stroll in Central Park. 

Hong himself frames the film with meticulous attention to image composition, adding a layer of visual care that compensates for the film’s modest ambitions. In Our Day may not be mind-blowing in its ideas, but it radiates warmth and gentle humor. It's a human and occasionally touching film, though it demands patience from viewers, asking them to find pleasure in the small moments and connect with its characters, a task that may not always come easily. 

Return to Seoul (2023)

Direction: Davy Chou
Country: South Korea / France / other

Starring Park Ji-min, an immensely talented newcomer, Return to Seoul is a chronicle of disillusion and self-discovery that, avoiding clichés and character victimization, is both tough and tender as well as genuine and touching. The third feature from Davy Chou (Golden Slumbers, 2011; Diamond Island, 2016), who based himself on the life of a Korean friend, deals with two delicate subjects: the confrontation of cultures and the search for one's origins. 

The director, who was born in France to Cambodian parents, identified himself with part of the story as he only visited Cambodia at the age 25. Just like Frederique (Ji-min), the volatile protagonist of the film, who, at that same age, leaves France - where she was adopted as a baby - to visit her country of birth, South Korea. Even denying it at first, her conscious intention is to connect with their biological parents (Oh Kwang-rok, Choi Cho-woo).

Life sends her in different directions - from wild partygoer to intoxicated gothic to missile negotiator - but the fear of abandonment never leaves her. She can be spirited, aggressive, offensive, and even mean sometimes as she abruptly cuts ties with the ones she loves. All her unexpected behaviors come from the sadness of lacking an identity and fear of rejection. Will she ever have relief from this eternal quest? 

There’s total involvement from the cast, which gives rise to a stunning authenticity, yet it’s Ji-min, a visual artist, who carries the film on her shoulders. A few funny moments decompress the heaviness of deep emotional wounds that need courage and a long process to heal. Return to Seoul is a compellingly constructed, deeply felt drama.

The Novelist's Film (2022)

Direction: Hong Sang-soo
Country: South Korea

Adopting the same naturalistic and conversational style he's been accustoming us, the prolific South Korean writer-director Hong Sang-soo delivers a mildly entertaining film orchestrated with discreet virtuosity. Centered on artists facing creative blocks and dealing with short period hiatus in their careers, The Novelist’s Film is steady in mood, uneven in the rhythm, and vulnerable as a story.

At the very center, we have a celebrated novelist, Kim Junhee (Lee Hye-yeong), who leaves Seoul to visit an old friend in the suburbs. In her way back, she crosses paths with a director (Kwon Hae-hyo) with whom she almost worked in the past, and a trendy actress (the director’s wife Kim Min-hee), whose work she admires. Both think she has a lot of charisma, but she decides to discard the former and make a short film with the latter. 

It’s a movie in love with words and human connection, pulling subtle punches with a cerebral pragmatism and purity of tone. Sang-soo’s efforts result in a contemplative film that, stuttering at times, also plays too much with coincidences. Despite the visible exaggeration at this level, a worn-out drinking scene, and nothing newfangled to produce a spark, we let ourselves be carried away by the charm of the protagonists.

The passable The Novelist’s Film doesn't transcend the director’s intimidating filmography, whose previous entry, In Front of Your Face, is a stronger bet.

Decision to Leave (2022)

Direction: Park Chan-wook
Country: South Korea 

In Park Chan-wook's latest film, a seasoned detective (Park Hae-il) falls for an enigmatic widow (Tang Wei) while investigating the death of her husband. She becomes his primary suspect, but he’s suddenly torn between his drive to solve the case and the strong physical attraction that devours him whenever she’s around. 

Assuming the classic type, Decision to Leave is the perfect antidote to the recent glut of stylish yet brainless thrillers. Being more character-driven than investigative, the script co-written with regular collaborator Jeong Seo-kyeong, forces Chan-wook to step away from the creepiest thrillers that made him famous (Old Boy; The Vengeance Trilogy). Taking the form of a romantic cat-and-mouse neo-noir, the film never burns, but sizzles and smolders, opting to enhance passion and sorrow to the detriment of thrills and violence. To be more specific, think of a Hitchcockian detective story (the director took inspiration from Vertigo) bathed with the filmmaking elegance of Wong Kar-wai. Although more formal and less furious, like in the sensual The Handmaiden (2016), Chan-wook refuses to adhere to conventionality.

In an early stage, the proceedings are quite subtle and the pace a bit torpid, but knowing the director’s filmography, one should expect some surprises and bittersweet tones along the way. His originality here is the clarity in the filmmaking, even dealing with multiple layers and complex temporal shifts in the story. He meets his goal with an incredible eye for detail and the help of awesome leading actors.

Broker (2022)

Direction: Hirokazu Koreeda
Country: South Korea

Following a first international production in 2019 with the charming French drama The Truth, the highly celebrated Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Koreeda (Nobody Knows, 2004; Shoplifters, 2018) decided to shoot his next film in South Korea. Broker mixes conscious drama and light comedy, starring the acclaimed Song Kang-ho (Memories of Murder, 2003; Parasite, 2019), the unsung Gang Dong-won (Peninsula, 2020), and the popular singer/songwriter Lee Ji-eun.

The themes of family, abandonment, and adoption suit Koreeda once again, but this time around, the narrative is pelted with problems that range from a sleep-inducing tone to an often unexciting course of events. The plot, pointing out the controversial baby boxes where mothers can drop their infants to be adopted, ends up in a life-changing road trip that unites a dissatisfied young mother (Ji-eun) with the two men - laundromat owner Sang-hyeon (Kang-ho) and formerly rejected child Dong-soo (Dong-won) - that illegally plan to make a good sum with the selling of her child. 

Never heart-wrenching, Broker is mounted with simplicity but not enough wit and grit to make our day. The detective side of the story is clumsy; it simply doesn’t work, no matter how many turns the plot can give. On the emotional side, the film only impressed me once, in a strong scene on the Ferris wheel that felt like a short rebirth of Koreeda’s best dramatic qualities. There are some innocent moments of humor that don’t save the film from its graceless staging. 

Despite glimpses of a hard-earned affection, Koreeda’s road movie is a soulless exercise that sinks the cast in a dry land of forced, melodramatic resolutions. This is particularly obvious for Kang-ho, whose acting capabilities deserve more credibility than what is showed in this flat performance.

In Front of Your Face (2021)

Direction: Hong Sangsoo
Country: South Korea 

Beautifully crafted, naturally flowing, and full of surprises, In Front of Your Face, the 26th feature from prolific South Korean director director Hong Sangsoo, is about a former actress (Lee Hye-yeong) who returns to Seoul after years living in the US. During her stay, she embraces the present moments, reconnects with her estranged sister (Yunhee Cho), visits the house of her childhood, and agrees to a lunch appointment with a director (Kwon Hae-hyo) who, admiring her past work, offers her an opportunity to star in his upcoming film. 

Sangsoo keeps you engrossed by churning out active dialogues and a delicious lyricism. Yet, on this occasion, and despite the lightness of the storytelling, the core is heavyhearted, and there’s even room for doubt and ambiguity as well as dream and illusion. The most crucial aspect is the honesty with which Sangsoo enriches the emotional spectrum of his cerebral filmmaking style. Even if he decides to warp it, like it was the case here, his work always carries a sensorially alluring pleasure. 

Themes like loneliness, reintegration, openness, and compassion are common, but this one brings more, starting off vividly casual before becoming unnervingly earnest, then plaintive and disconcerting, and ultimately mischievous. It’s a bittersweet work from a visionary director who, for the first time since 2017, picks an actress other than his muse, Kim Min-hee, to play the central character. Instead, the latter is credited as a co-producer. Under these circumstances, In Front of Your Face is another distinctive Sangsoo hit.

House of Hummingbird (2020)

Direction: Bora Kim
Country: South Korea

Bora Kim writes and directs her first feature film, House of Hummingbird, with observant precision without ever losing sight of the main character’s feelings. Yet, the story, based on her own childhood memories and experiences, is told with agonizing restraint, becoming a little overlong while presenting a whole not quite equal to some of its parts.

In 1994 Seoul, 14-year-old Eun-hee (Ji-hu Park) tries to figure ways to repair the quotidian struggles that push her down as the environment at home is frequently stressful and both her friendships and amorous relationships marked by disappointment. There’s also a corrigible health problem and an impeding pressure for the grades that would take her to the coveted Seoul University. Feeling no support, she finally finds the attention she deserves when a perceptive new teacher, Yong-ji (Sae-byeok Kim), shows availability, giving her a rare chance to open up. 

Ms. Kim refuses to play the melodrama and deserves an extra point for that, but the film lacks that emotional punch in the story and nuance in the characters that would have grabbed me in a different way. The most praiseworthy aspect here is Park’s assured performance, which helps to put an honest touch in the proceedings. While attempting to find her own space, Eun-hee is not afraid to give a step forward and probe alternative directions that could bring her less suffering. And that, by itself, is laudable.

The Woman Who Ran (2020)

Direction: Hong Sang-soo
Country: South Korea

As usual, the prolific Korean director Hong Sang-soo brings his realism to the fore in his 24th drama, The Woman Who Ran, a simplistic and quotidian account of three different encounters in the outskirts of Seoul involving a common subject, Gamhee (Sang-soo’s muse Kim Minhee). The latter is a married woman who has never been apart from her translator husband in five years of marriage except for the occasions that this film portray. 

At first, she visits her good-natured friend Youngsoon (Seo Younghwa), a divorcee who lives in the countryside and needs time for herself. Youngsoon lives with a roommate, Youngji (Lee Eunmi), and both feed stray cats, a detail that upsets a newly arrived neighbor. The second visit takes her to a fun urban neighborhood where Suyoung (Song Seonmi), a dance producer and pilates teacher, bought an apartment with a view to the Inwangsan Mountain. This friend is emotionally involved with the architect that lives above her, but keeps being stalked by a young poet with whom she had a one-night stand. The third and most painful encounter happens at an independent cinema where she bumps into her former lover, now a famous director, and her ex-friend, Woojin (Kim Saebyuk), who married him.

Clearly, the central topic here is the obsessed idea of living glued to a husband, but there are also past issues in need of inner resolution. 

As the natural performances define feelings and shape characters, the film, mounted with incredible sobriety, adopts a minimalistic trait that fully depends on the actors’ proficiency. While the enigmatic title makes us suspect that Gamhee is running from her current life, the static camera work with urgent closeups and languid long takes are never synonym of emotional aridness.

Beasts Clawing at Straws (2020)

Direction: Kim Yong-hoon
Country: South Korea

Beasts Clawing at Straws is a gritty neo-noir thriller that runs fast and twisted. In his first feature-length film, director Kim Yong-hoon adapted Keisuke Sone’s Japanese novel of the same name, depicting its relatively complex interconnections between characters with positive results.

The story, told in six chapters, revolves around a lost bag of money highly coveted by the indebted people that come across with it, including a former restaurant owner turned into bathhouse clerk (Bae Seong-woo), an insidious customs officer (Jung Woo-Sung) and his wild and merciless ex-girlfriend (Jeon Do-yeon ), a violent loan shark (Jung Man-sik) and the gut-eater assassin who works for him (Bae Jin-woong).

Brutal violence occurs but not in an exaggerated extent, and you can indulge in a trillion betrayals and scams, aspects explored in a way that are truly emblematic of the genre. Well-shot with apt camera angles and filled with energy, the film has no dull moments despite of its many dull characters.

A Taxi Driver (2017) - capsule review

Direction: Hun Jang
Country: South Korea

A Taxi Driver depicts a black page in South Korean’s history, being often melodramatic to become entirely satisfying. The historical facts are lightened up by a charismatic central character enjoyably played by Song Kang-ho (Parasite; Snowpiercer). Despite overlong and emotionally elaborate, Hun Jang’s drama film has its moments and ensures amusement.



Parasite (2019)

Direction: Joon-ho Bong
Country: South Korea

South Korean filmmaker Joon-ho Bong was meritoriously elevated to cult status due to masterworks such as Memories of Murder (2003), Mother (2009), and Snowpiercer (2013). Two years ago, he made a shift in direction with the imaginative action-adventure film Okja, returning in big this year with another witty and gritty invention called Parasite, a virulent mix of crime thriller and black comedy that you won’t be able to forget for a long time.

This madcap satire delivers social class commentary and serves up thrilling moments enshrouded in slyness, erupting into explosive violence in its final segment. This way, Parasite can join Lanthimo’s Dogtooth and Miike’s Visitor Q as one of the most disturbing portraits of demented families.

The plot follows Ki-woo Kim (Woo-sik Choi), a broke young student turned English tutor, who starts working for the wealthy Park family. He had been recommended by his brave friend, Min (Seo-joon Park), who abandoned the position to go study abroad. Sooner than later, Ki-Woo takes advantages of the insecurities of Yeon-kyo Park (Yeo-jeong Jo), the amiable, if naive, lady of the house, and recommends an art tutor for her problematic younger son. He introduces this busy, highly qualified art teacher as his friend and colleague, but in truth, she is his sister Ki-Jung (So-dam Park). Propelled by an uncontrolled ambition, Ki-jung sets up the family’s driver to get her father, Ki-taek (Kang-ho Song), employed again and filling the place. In turn, the latter recommends his wife, Chung-sook (Hye-jin Jang), for the housekeeping job, after they frame Moon-gwang (Jeong-eun Lee), who was performing that task for years with distinction.

In no time, the injurious Kim family goes from folding pizza boxes to well-paid steady jobs. Yet, these charlatans face exposition as the former housekeeper threatens to unveil their secrets.

The jokes are as strong as the moments of suspense, and, if on one hand we see the Kim family drowned in whiskey and with their hands stained by blood, then, on the other, we have the Park family fighting for ramen. The final stage is a crazy intense rampage that grabs the audience with its turbulent atmosphere.

Brilliantly shot and photographed with Kyung-pyo Hong's distinctive palette, Parasite offers a lot of wicked pleasures, providing you with a delightfully insane cinematic experience. This is pretty strong filmmaking admittedly and one of the best films of the year in its genre. Most importantly, it testifies that Bong knows how to entertain a crowd of moviegoers better than anyone else.

Grass (2019)

Direction: Hong Sang-soo
Country: South Korea

Prolific Korean director Hong Sang-soo is known for little conversational diamonds of the modern cinema and Grass, lasting 66 minutes only, shows he still didn’t run out of narrative possibilities within the breezy, light fluency that characterizes his filmmaking style. Sang-soo keeps depicting unpretentious day-to-day situations with realism. Fortuitous encounters, actors, directors, booze, cafes, personal frustrations and peculiarities of the daily life are ubiquitous elements in his works.

The cast includes the same collaborators that join Isabelle Huppert in Claire’s Camera, namely, Kim Min-hee, the director’s muse, and Jung Jin-young. Their gracious performances feel so natural that viewers may feel like voyeurs of true-life episodes. It's true that the story produces little dramatic fireworks and doesn't conclude resolutely. However, it’s remarkable how Sang-soo manages to completely engross us in a tale that only exists for our cinematic pleasure.

Grass, his 22nd feature film, centers in Areum (Min-hee), a silent, observant young woman who spends a few daily hours in a local café typing on her laptop. She seems to be writing stories inspired by the personal dramas and complicated relationships of the ones sit around her table. A young drinking couple exchange accusations over the death of a close friend; an older suicidal actor is looking for a room and asks his younger former lover if he could stay with her, now that she moved from a tiny apartment to a two-story building; a mature heartless man blames a woman of toying with an old professor and lead him to suicide; a vain director needs something to inspire him and persuades the staring Areum to enter in his new film.

Where the reality ends and fantasy begins is up to the viewer. Meanwhile, Areum shows her temperamental side while hanging out with her brother. According to him, she suffers from spinster’s hysteria.

The classical music is occasionally intrusive while the black-and-white cinematography is aesthetically appropriate for a type of fiction embroiled in a deceptively philosophical guise.

Burning (2018)

Directed by Lee Chang-dong
Country: South Korea

The films of Lee Chang-dong (“Peppermint Candy”, “Oasis”, “Poetry”), one of the most esteemed filmmakers from South Korea, are usually layered in a way that requires some patience from the viewer. If you are able to cope with slow developments and dive in Chang-dong’s detached, breezy flow that gradually shapes his characters, it is almost certain you’ll be rewarded in the end. And that’s exactly what you get in the peaceful “Burning”, a skilled cinematic adaptation of a short story by Japanese writer Haruki Murakami.

Lee Jong-su (Yoo Ah-in), a confessed adept of William Faulkner, aspires to write his first novel short time after earning a degree in creative writing. He lives in Paju, on the border with North Korea, where he grew up practically alone, taking care of the family’s farm. His mother left when he was still a kid because of the stubbornness and irascible character of his father, a war vet who was sent to prison for physical aggression to an officer.

One day, while working part-time in Seoul, Jong-su runs into Hae-mi (newcomer Jeon Jong-seo), a former neighbor and classmate who secretly had a crush on him. Before Hae-mi’s trip to Africa, they sleep together, also agreeing that Jong-su will come to Seoul to feed her cat while she’s away. In her apartment, he masturbates looking at her picture, but his hope of having her in his arms again becomes questionable with the arrival of Ben (Steven Yeun), a wealthy man whom he calls ‘Great Gatsby’. This vague, unprincipled man likes to break the rules and doesn’t recall of crying at any stage of his luxurious life. He lives to entertain himself and provide amusement to his upper-class friends through recurrent social gatherings that take place in his apartment.

Combining the unruffled, quotidian spell of Hou Hsiao Hsien’s dramas with the pertinent observation of Jia Zhangke’s contemporary themes, the film burns slowly until the moment when Hae-mi vanishes without a trace. It then gains momentum, moving confidently toward a surprising climax. The resplendent soundtrack, which includes a Miles Davis’ tune, and the naturalistic performances make a significant contribution to the success of this achingly poignant meditation on passion, in its strangest forms.

On the Beach at Night Alone (2017)

Directed by Hong Sang-soo
Country: South Korea

Prolific Korean writer/director Hong Sang-soo keeps pursuing both inner sensitivities and the truth in human relationships with a cinéma vérité that enchants with simplicity. Sang-soo remains faithful to a simple yet highly efficient filmmaking style that goes against any contemporary cinematic trend that attempts to turn everything visually spectacular through fabricated settings, eccentric special effects, or excessively pre-staged situations. Instead, he prefers tackling a good emotional story by taking advantage of an observant sincerity, naturalistic performances, and a forthright approach. Gentle dramas such as “Oki’s Movie”, “The Day He Arrives”, and “In Another Country” (featuring Isabelle Huppert) are highlights of an undeviating career that incorporates three more titles this year: “Claire’s Camera”, featuring Ms. Huppert once again, “The Day After”, and “On the Beach at Night Alone”, the object of this review.

Just like the former two titles, the latter stars the talented Kim Min-hee (“The Handmaiden”), winner of the latest Silver Berlin Bear, who has been the director’s inspirational muse since the release of the well-received “Right Now, Wrong Then” in 2015. The film comes wrapped up in autobiographical controversy after Sang-soo has admitted his extramarital affair with Min-hee at a press conference in Seoul.
  
Feeling abandoned after the terminus of an affair with a married man, the celebrated yet stranded actress Young-hee (Min-hee) flies to Hamburg, Germany, where she finds solace in the company of a longtime friend. The disenchantment with her actual life is quite perceptible when we listen to their conversations. She wonders if her lover misses her like she misses him and even tests her friend with “should I come living here with you?”.

Unfitted, she returns to the Korean coastal town of Gangneung, where she reunites with some old friends at a restaurant. This section is a staple in the director’s written statement since food and drinks always play an important role in his narrative process. At the dinner, she gets tipsy in just a few minutes, proclaiming her male friends unqualified to love or be loved, except Jun-hee (Song Seon-mi) with whom she has a special chemistry.
 
After being rescued of her dreams while lying down alone at the beach, she is taken to drink with her former director/lover, an encounter that gains extra dramatic agitation. There is a thin line separating loneliness and friendship here, an idea reinforced by the main character herself when she admits her emotional complexity and destructive side. Also, one can feel a strong sense of misplacement and surrender that translates into emotional aggressiveness rather than resilience.

Sang-soo operates the camera in a very efficient way, regardless if he opts for static or dynamic shots, occasionally complemented with zoom ins and wide pans. His lucid quests for the meaning of love, consistently clever and exclusive, keep enriching the contemporary cinema with modesty and virtue. Hence, “On the Beach at Night Alone” brings some truths attached and is definitely worth exploring.

The Villainess (2017)

Directed by Jung Byung-gil
Country: South Korea

Drawing from a promising script he co-wrote, Korean director Jung Byung-gil (“Confession of Murder”) squanders the chance of doing something original or memorable with “The Villainess”. Sadly, the crime thriller in question brings an assemblage of stale clichés that, although fast-and-furious, only increase tiredness along the way.

Byung-gil goes straight to the point, showing a ravaging skinny woman annihilating an entire gang in a short period of time. She is Sook-hee (Kim Ok-bin), a trained assassin since a young age, whose traumatic memories of a difficult childhood bolstered her lethality and resilience.
 
The superior fighting skills and instant killing instinct she evinces quickly call the attention of the South Korea’s intelligence agency which forces her to enroll in one of their obscure projects comprising several dangerous missions with assigned targets. Before starting to execute these preys under the tight supervision of the agency’s glacial chief, Kwon (Kim Seo-hyeong), Sook-hee is submitted to a facial plastic surgery, psychologically revitalized, and persuaded to join them for ten years in exchange for a lifetime pension and total freedom when the service time is over.

Often, especially while on duty, harrowing situations from a tumultuous past assault her mind and are presented in the form of flashbacks. Despite so, it was still difficult for me to connect with this mysterious character, who is relocated to an apartment with her little daughter in order to live a discreet, ’normal’ life. Rejuvenated and with a new identity, this gal is able to smile again, gaining extra confidence when a young neighbor and widower, Hyun-soo (Bang Sung-jun), gains her trust and her heart. Big disillusion, though, when she finds out he’s an undercover agent sent to control all her moves.

In fact, the romance gets emotionally vibrant, becoming the prettiest part of a tale whose situations keep oscillating between the easily tolerable and the terribly bad. There are plenty of bloody scary faces, shots in the head, physical torments, nauseating throat slashes, and a scene captured with visual panache of a few bikers dueling with swords in a narrow tunnel. It’s simultaneously excessive and spectacular, and is exactly this intermittence in terms of satisfaction that accompanied me throughout.

To give you a better idea of what you can expect, think about a dark crossing between the psychological harassment associated with the cinema of Takashi Miike and Shion Sono, the vengeful path and romping rage of "I Saw the Devil", and the espionage thrills of "La Femme Nikita". 
The description above might sound appealing for action hunters, but as a matter of fact, and when deeply analyzed, “The Villainess” is simply an overlong, unarticulated, and impotent thriller that opted for the easiest way to impress.

The Age of Shadows (2016)

Directed by Kim Jee-woon
Country: South Korea

Brought to cinematic life by the hand of writer/helmer Kim Jee-woon, “The Age of Shadows” is a Korean espionage action thriller that reaps honors with a smart script, outstanding action scenes, and unshaken performances by Song Kang-ho (“Momories of a Murder”, “Snowpiercer”), Gong Yoo (“Train to Busan”), and Eom Tae-goo.

The director, whose past works oscillate between the horror (“Tale of Two Sisters”, “I Saw the Devil”) and the action genres (“A Bittersweet Life”, “The Last Stand”), shows a strong narrative articulation while keeping high levels of tension throughout.

Set in the 20’s occupied Korea and Shanghai, the film centers on Lee Jeong-chool (Kang-ho), a deserter member of the Korean resistance who started working for the Japanese as their police captain. He usually accomplishes knotty missions in a stainless way, being regarded as an asset in the hunt for rebel leaders. His superior, Higashi (Shingo Tsurumi), has him in a high account and never recriminates him, even when the operations go off the track.

After the killing of Ok Kim-jang, an important member of the Resistance, Jeong-chool, whom was his former classmate and close friend, radically changes sides as he teams up with Jin Kim-woon (Yoo), a dissimulated antique dealer and persuasive blackmailer who asks for help in a scheme to transfer explosives from Shanghai to Seoul. The explosives would be used to destroy critical Japanese targets in the disquieted capital of South Korea.

Divided between the Japanese duty and his true Korean heart, Jeong-chool resolves to embrace the role of a double agent after meeting with the most wanted man in the country, Jeong Chae-san (Lee Byung-hun), the leader of the Resistance and, according to his own words, a “soldier who lost his country".

At the same time that our agent tries to deviate the attention of Hashimoto (Tae-goo), his voracious new partner in the police, he also tries to locate the betrayer who, acting from inside the group, keeps the occupiers so well informed.

Every scene was carefully weighed and measured to look as realistic as possible, a factor that is commonly neglected nowadays in favor of fireworks and overdone tantrums.

Never decaying in pace, the film provides us with thrilling Hitchcockian sequences on a train, suspenseful ambushes, treacherous inside men working in the shadow, and incredible shootouts at the sound of Louis Armstrong. Are these enough reasons to make you interested?

“The Age of Shadows” not only received domestic praise but also drew positive reactions internationally.

The Handmaiden (2016)

Directed by Park Chan-wook
Country: South Korea

14 years ago, Korean director Park Chan-wook secured a huge legion of fans with his critically acclaimed thriller “Oldboy”, which later on was subjected to a lame American remake directed by Spike Lee.
During the following years, Chan-wook came up with some good ideas, most of them characterized by violence and general alienation. Titles like “Lady Vengeance”, “Thirst”, and “Stoker” belong to this roster.

This year, and for our surprise, he resolved to change direction, adapting Sarah Waters’s novel “Fingersmith” and switching its Victorian background for Korea under Japanese colonization. He counted on his regular collaborator Chung Seo-kyung to work on the script.

The voluptuous psychological thriller, “The Handmaiden”, stars Kim Min-hee and Kim Tae-ri as Lady Hideko and Sook-Hee, respectively. The former is a wealthy Japanese heiress who lives with her stern uncle, Kouzuki (Cho Jin-woong), while the latter is an experienced Korean con artist who is hired by a scheming man who, adopting a false identity, goes by the name of Count Fujiwara (Ha Jung-woo).
His plan consists in sending Sook-Hee, operating under the name of Tamako, to the opulent mansion of Hideko, an orphan haunted by nightmares, where she would work as her personal maid. This strategy envisions to facilitate his access and intentions of marrying Hideko to steal her inheritance.

Everything was going as planned, but unforeseen difficulties arise when master and servant embark on a scalding lesbian romance that leaves Fujiwara aside, with no financial perspectives.
Along the way, we learn more details about the characters, especially Hideko who struggles with psychological problems related to a terrible childhood. She lives haunted by her aunt’s ghost and trembles with fear of her perverted uncle.
Sook-Hee, whose ambition is not as big as her passion for Hideko, manages to get rid of Fujiwara with a little help from the deranged Uncle Kouzuki.

Rich in dark humor, detail and color, as well as marked by a strong narrative, “The Handmaiden”, eschews the bloodsheds that Chan-wook is so fond of. 
Instead, it intertwines lustful carnal scenes and tense artful schemes.
The package comes full of fine ingredients, old and new, telling us that the filmmaker’s vision and aptitudes are wider that we’ve had imagined.

Train to Busan (2016)

Directed by Yeon Sang-ho
Country: South Korea

This Korean zombie thriller flick is much more invigorating than many of its American relatives. Likely, a big production company already targeted it as a profitable Hollywood remake for a near future, and its writer-director, Yeon Sang-ho, is the one responsible for all the buzz and favorable outcome.
A prequel of this live-action adventure, entitled “Seoul Station”, was also released this year in an animated form.

Seok Woo, an extremely busy fund manager who doesn’t spend enough time with his daughter, Soo-an, reluctantly agrees to take her on her birthday from Seoul to Busan where her mother lives since their divorce. However, they get caught in terror when ravaging zombies quickly infest the high-speed train in which they travel. The pandemic is spreading furiously, triggering the national state of emergency, and the well-guarded Busan seems to be the only city that gives them an absolute guarantee of safety.
The claustrophobia increases onboard of the train as the spaces become narrower and the fear and paranoia take care of the passengers.  
A few stops are made, some of them forced due to unexpected setbacks. The Daejon Station, for example, had a severe outbreak and massive wild attacks are being perpetrated by a bunch of spasmodic soldiers.

Seok Woo is not alone in this ghastly battle, though. There are other passengers who, carrying different energies, look desperately to survive and remain close to their loved ones. Separation impels this redeemed father to join forces with Sang Hwa, a brave yet sometimes-rude man who is also looking for his pregnant wife, and a teen baseball player who searches for his girlfriend. Still, there’s always someone whose selfishness only makes the things worse, which is the case of the wealthy CEO Yon-suk.

The story has enough emotional bates to firmly grab the audience, and Mr. Sang-ho proves he knows how to create suspense and appall us with rowdy and often spectacular situations of chaos, panic, and disarray. 
I also have to mention that the characterization of the zombies and the bloody scenes are not overdone, as they normally are, while the screenwriter also throws in a strong sense of fate translated in a few occurrences where the characters benefit from being in the right place at the right time. One can expect interesting twists-and-turns along the way. 
Even abusing a bit of the dramatic tones, this is a funny and somewhat eccentric ride onboard of a crazy train heading to a distant paradise called Busan.

The Boys Who Cried Wolf (2015)

Directed by Kim Jin-hwang
Country: South Korea

Kim Jin-hwang’s directorial debut, “The Boys Who Cried Wolf”, is a drama turned into a detective story.
 
It stars the newcomer Park Jong-Hwan as Wan-ju, a frustrated stage actor who also works as an escort and wingman for his friend’s agency.
With his mother sick in the hospital, needing urgent surgery, Wan-ju needs desperately to find a quick solution to get the money that would allow him to pay both the treatment and the hospital bill. 
At the same time, he gets pissed off when he doesn't get the leading role of a play he was really committed to.

The opportunity to thrive without much effort comes when Yang Kyang-Sun, the CEO of a well-established company, persuades him to falsely testify in a murder case. 
The supposedly simple task becomes a headache in the minute that Wan-ju finds out that the suspect is innocent and the CEO who had contacted him wasn’t the real Kyang-Sun.
Propelled by a strong curiosity, he starts digging up the mystery as he attempts to clear his name from the mess he was pushed into. 
Continuous threats and a beat up are just a little part of the predicament.

The chain of middlemen and a large number of suspects made of this modest exercise a difficulty. In the end, the mystery-thriller presented here wasn't up to much. However, its stylish approach, more European than Korean, and the quality of the acting had the desired effect to pump it up a little.

The Wailing (2016)

Directed by Na Hong-jin
Country: South Korea

Na Hong-jin, the successful writer/director of the action-packed “The Yellow Sea” and “Chaser”, returns with a supernatural thriller that guarantees creeps and laughs in equal amounts.

Do Won Kwak plays the main character with aplomb. He is Jong-Goo, a small village cop whose qualm about unexplainable occurrences don’t refrain him from investigating a mysterious and quiet Japanese stranger (Jun Kunimura) who everybody says is an evil ghost. After this man’s arrival, a few brutal crimes, associated with a patterned ritual, started to happen, making him the main suspect, although without proof. The villagers also believe he raped a young woman (Chun Woo-hee) who became deeply affected and, since then, keeps wandering throughout the village with no apparent direction.
There’s a laughable foolishness, perhaps even a slight naivety, in Jong-Goo that arises sympathy. As a vulnerable man, he’s often tormented by nightmares and is not afraid to scream whenever startled.

A strange force possesses one villager at a time, making their bodies rot and impelling them to commit harrowing massacres, which frequently aim their own families. It seemed obvious that Jong-Goo and his partner nothing could do about it. However, when his daughter starts to evince abnormal behaviors and becomes violent, he accepts the help of a noisy shaman (Hwang Jung-min), who despite knowledgeable and available is also fallible. 
Meanwhile, he befriends with a young deacon whose curiosity about demons is larger than his faith.

The frequent presence of animals, shadowy figures, heavy rain, and hypnotic rituals are part of the ominous scenario, beautifully captured in Hong Kyung-pyo's cinematography and intensified through a powerful score. Once in a while, we are presented with a stunning landscape to break the tension, or that tension is broken by an unexpected humor, as in the scene that invokes a typical zombie attack.
Never tacky in the execution, “The Wailing” is rousingly entertaining and shall attract the ones who love to be shaken by the power of horror, crime, and action.