Author: Fred Hamilton

Memories of Murder  (살인의 추억) 2003

‘Memories of Murder’ is a 2003 crime thriller directed by the acclaimed filmmaker Bong Joon-ho. The screenplay, co-written by Bong and Shim Sung-bo, who would later gain recognition for directing ‘Sea Fog’ (2014) with Bong as producer, draws inspiration from the 1996 play ‘Come to See Me’ by Kim Kwang-lim. The film is deeply rooted in the chilling real-life events of the Hwaseong serial murders—a series of heinous crimes that remained unsolved until the DNA identification of the killer in 2019.

These murders marked a significant moment in South Korean criminal history, representing the first confirmed case of a serial killer operating between 1986 and 1991. Rather than presenting a straightforward recounting of the actual events, Bong uses the real-life case and the play as frameworks to explore human nature. ‘Memories of Murder’ garnered widespread critical acclaim upon its release, with Bong and lead actor Song Kang-ho receiving numerous awards for their work.

The film opens dramatically with the unsettling discovery of a lifeless woman’s body in a small. Detective Park Doo-man (Song Kang-ho), the lead detective, relies heavily on his intuition. His unconventional methods include staring intently into the eyes of suspects to assess their guilt and consulting a shaman when the case becomes increasingly baffling. Alongside him is his sidekick, Cho Yong-koo, played by Kim Roi-ha, whose aggressive tactics involve using physical violence to extract confessions, showcasing the brutality and moral ambiguity prevalent in their approaches to law enforcement.

As the lack of progress becomes apparent, Seo Tae-yoon, portrayed by Kim Sang-kyung, arrives from Seoul to support the struggling local team. While Park and Cho have coerced a mentally challenged boy, Baek Kwang-ho, into a false confession, Seo uncovers substantial evidence that exposes the weaknesses in this false narrative. Each detective embodies distinct approaches to investigation, yet their collective incompetence and the significant procedural flaws they navigate leave them in a state of persistent frustration as they strive to unearth the identity of the genuine perpetrator.

A crucial aspect of the film is the audience’s awareness of the case’s unsolved status, which infuses the narrative with an inevitability. Bong could have fashioned an alternative finale that disclosed the cinematic identity of the killer, but such a resolution would not align with the film’s stark realism. Instead, the story zeroes in on the detectives’ tumultuous journeys, diverting attention from the elusive killer and the tragic victims toward a more profound exploration of human vulnerability and the burdens of unresolved crime.

Bong Joon-ho masterfully employs visual storytelling techniques, intentionally de-emphasizing colour to reflect the bleakness of the investigation. Except for the opening and closing sequences, which provide brief reprieves of vividness, the film predominantly adopts a muddy grey palette.

Bong’s strategic use of green, red, and white serves as visual clues. Green permeates the film, symbolising the pervasive mystery that shrouds the detectives. While red is employed as a significant motif, with most victims clad in this colour hinting at a connection between red and murder/death. Bong, however, utilises red as a deceptive element, creating misleading paths for both characters and viewers alike. In contrast, white represents innocence, represented by the school children, while it preempts the truth regarding the wrongly accused suspects.

Close-up shots are also frequently utilised, mirroring Detective Park’s probing gaze into the eyes of suspects, capturing the weight of suspicion, fear, and desperation on the characters’ faces.

The film delves into the detectives’ inherent flaws, especially their violent impulses and egos that frequently clash, creating internal tensions and further complicating the investigation. Initially divided in the frame, the detectives gradually learn to overcome their differences and work collaboratively. Interestingly, Bong heightens the narrative tension by positioning Kwon Kwi-ok, the lone female officer, as the character who ultimately uncovers the most pivotal clue—not through using her legs (violently or running around), but via her intellect.

While ‘Memories of Murder’ critiques several shortcomings within the police force, it simultaneously humanises the detectives, highlighting their earnest attempts to navigate an overwhelmingly complex case despite their evident limitations and flaws.

In conclusion, ‘Memories of Murder’ is hailed as a cinematic masterpiece that not only solidified Bong Joon-ho’s reputation as a master storyteller but also left an indelible mark on the crime thriller genre. Though it did not achieve the commercial triumph of his later film ‘The Host’, it significantly surpassed the box office performance of his earlier effort, ‘Barking Dogs Never Bite’. The film features a tightly woven narrative, complemented by Bong’s exceptional visual storytelling, that intricately weaves character development, thematic depth, and cinematic artistry into a profound commentary on the human condition and the nature of justice, making it a must-watch.

Barking Dogs Never Bite  (플란다스의 개) 2000

‘Barking Dogs Never Bite’, 2000 (플란다스의 개) marks the feature film debut of the illustrious director Bong Joon-ho, who skillfully weaves together dark humour and social critique. This black comedy intricately traces the tumultuous life of Go Yun-ju, a part-time academic who finds himself increasingly agitated by the incessant barking of his neighbour’s dog. The narrative drew inspiration from Bong’s childhood memory of seeing a deceased puppy atop his apartment building.

Starring Lee Sung-jae in the role of Yun-ju and featuring Bae Doona in her debut leading role, the film initially saw modest box office success; however, it garnered critical acclaim, sparking a passionate cult following that paved the way for Bong’s next film ‘Memories of Murder’ to catapult him to stardom.

Go Yun-ju, is an ambitious yet discontented academic feverishly pursuing a permanent position as a university professor. His belief that he must bribe the dean with a substantial $10,000 only serves to amplify his mounting anxiety and financial woes. Compounding these stresses is his heavily pregnant wife, Eun-sil, portrayed by the talented Kim Ho-jung, whose impending motherhood adds another layer of complexity to their domestic challenges. The relentless barking by the neighbouring dog drives Yun-ju over the edge. Fueled by anger, he captures an unsuspecting Shih Tzu, stowing it away in a dark, dank wardrobe in the basement of their apartment complex.

As a little girl begins to hang missing posters for her beloved pet, Park Hyun-nam (played by Bae Doona), a bookkeeper in the apartment complex office with a strong moral compass, becomes determined to uncover the truth behind the dog’s mysterious disappearance. The tension escalates when Yun-ju realizes that the true origin of the incessant barking is not the Shih Tzu he has captured, but rather a feisty Miniature Pinscher owned by an elderly lady. The narrative builds to a feverish climax when Hyun-nam inadvertently witnesses Yun-ju, cloaked in disguise, throwing the dog off the roof, setting off a madcap and chaotic chase through the complex.

The film effectively uses humour to illustrate Yun-ju’s tightly wound personality, obsessive focus on achieving academic success and overreactions to simple requests from his pregnant wife. In stark contrast, Hyun-nam emerges as a character of genuine kindness, albeit frequently hapless in her efforts to assist, as her obsession with solving the mystery of the dognapper intertwines with her dreams of achieving fame on television.

A pivotal aspect of ‘Barking Dogs Never Bite’ is its exceptional sound design, arguably more significant here than in Bong’s later cinematic offerings. The film opens with the jarring, piercing sound of a barking dog, immersing the audience in the turmoil of Yun-ju’s perspective even before visual elements unfold. The jazzy soundtrack, distinct from Bong’s typical musical choices, enhances the film’s whimsical yet suspenseful atmosphere, evoking comparisons to the antics of classic cartoons like ‘Tom and Jerry’, particularly during the energetic chase sequences. Bong expertly manipulates pacing infusing these moments with a playful, almost cartoonish charm. The iconic visual motif of a cloud of smoke is also present here. Meanwhile, yellow plays a significant role in the film; characters dressed in this hue are often depicted as innocently oblivious to the chaos unfurling around them.

The film explores the nature of poverty and the complexities of altruism versus selfishness. While many of Bong’s later works examine the gaps in class division, this narrative provides a more detached perspective, illustrated more in the background through the contrast between the janitor, a homeless man, and the dean. The theme is further expressed through Yun-ju’s ambition to climb the academic hierarchy, which is directly linked to financial bribery.

In conclusion, ‘Barking Dogs Never Bite’ is a compelling debut, highlighting Bong’s emerging talent and deft storytelling skills, even if its narrative coherence doesn’t quite reach the extraordinary heights of his subsequent films. It warrants attention, especially for those eager to witness Bong’s evolution as a filmmaker. Bae Doona deserves special praise for her outstanding performance; her portrayal in this leading role is enough evidence to see why she rose to international fame.

Perfect Number  (용의자X) 2012

‘Perfect Number‘ (용의자X) is a 2012 film that skillfully combines melodrama and mystery, directed by the talented Bang Eun-jin. This film was released a year before Way Back Home (reviewed here), showcasing her transition from acting to directing. It is an adaptation of the critically acclaimed novel ‘The Devotion of Suspect X” by the esteemed Japanese author Keigo Higashino. This adaptation is the second cinematic interpretation of the story, following the original Japanese film “Suspect X,” it has also seen further adaptions in both Chinese and Indian cinema.

The film boasts a stellar ensemble cast that brings depth and nuance to the characters. Ryoo Seung-bum delivers an unexpectedly softer performance as the introverted and enigmatic Kim Seok-go, while Lee Yo-won portrays the resilient Baek Hwa-sun. Cho Jin-woong steps into the role of Detective Jo Min-beom.

Baek Hwa-sun leads a life steeped in quietude alongside her niece Yoon-ah, exquisitely portrayed by Kim Bo-ra. The film delicately hints at the lack of an explicit backstory regarding Yoon-ah’s guardianship, suggesting through poignant dialogue that Hwa-sun is her sole guardian, possibly indicating the girl’s status as an orphan.

Hwa-sun finds solace in her work at a charming bakery, where her daily routine intertwines with her neighbour, Kim Seok-go—a mild-mannered math teacher with a history steeped in mathematical brilliance and prodigy status. Seok-go, harbouring deep, unexpressed feelings for Hwa-sun, is characterised by an unmistakable shyness that infuses their interactions with tenderness and an undercurrent of longing.

The narrative takes a chilling and dramatic turn as Hwa-sun’s abusive ex-husband, Kim Cheol-min (played by Kwak Min-ho), invades her fragile sanctuary, unleashing a torrent of aggression. The tension escalates alarmingly when Cheol-min directs his wrath at Yoon-ah, sparking a fierce resolve within Hwa-sun and her niece to protect themselves, which leads to a tragic, accidental death. Seok-go, overhearing the chaos from his adjoining space, steps into the fray, morally intertwining his fate with theirs as he aids Hwa-sun in concealing the murder.

Departing from the original novel’s structure—wherein an intricate battle of wits unfolds between the maths genius and lead detective, both bound by longstanding friendship—the film shifts focus. The relationship between Seok-go and Detective Jo Min-beom becomes sidelined with the dramatic core of the film focusing on the blooming romance between Seok-go and Hwa-sun, tilting the film’s tone more toward melodrama than the taut suspense or intricate mystery expected from the source material.

Throughout ‘Perfect Number’, the ambience remains predominantly tranquil, accented only by the intense, suspense-filled moments leading to the pivotal murder. Seok-go’s outwardly composed demeanour serves as a defining characteristic, shaping the film’s overall aesthetic, which deliberately distances itself from the darker palettes typically associated with mystery thrillers. Instead, many scenes are infused with light and warmth, crafting a unique visual experience.

Moreover, the evolution of the love story diverges significantly from the original text. While Hwa-sun initially brushes aside the idea of Seok-go being her type, she does show romantic interest in him, contrasting the more unbalanced affection depicted in the novel.

Bang Eun-jin creates a captivating narrative that diverges significantly from the source material by blending melodramatic elements with the mystery genre. Making it an engaging experience for viewers, regardless of whether they have read the original novel. It’s worth noting that the English title of the film can be somewhat misleading, as it emphasises the warmth and emotional development of Seok-go’s character rather than the mathematical intrigue tied to his prodigious background than expected given the choice to use the name ‘Perfect Number’ rather than the Korean ‘Suspect X’.

A Woman Judge (여판사)) 1962

‘A Woman Judge‘ (여판사) is a drama from 1962, helmed by the pioneering female director Hong Eun-won. This film recently underwent a careful restoration, celebrated in ‘Hommage‘ (2021)—You can find my review here. At the heart of the narrative is Moon Jeong-suk, who delivers a compelling performance as Jin-suk, a fictionalised version of Hwang Yun-suk, the first female judge in South Korea. Hong, however, alters the narrative with Jin-suk avoiding the tragic fate of the real-life Hwang, who fell victim to poisoning, with suspicions raised against her husband or in-laws.

Jin-suk is a fiercely dedicated young woman with an unwavering focus on passing the challenging law exam. Her relentless determination captures the attention of a construction company CEO, portrayed by Kim Seung-ho, who envisions a future where she marries his son, a role played by Kim Seok-hun. Yet, Jin-suk’s heart beats for Dr. Kwon, a man with whom she shares a deep, long-standing mutual affection.

When Dr. Kwon presents her with a painful ultimatum—surrender her ambitions of becoming a judge or risk losing him—Jin-suk resolutely chooses her dreams, committing herself to her studies. Though she marries Kim Seok-hun’s character following her triumph in becoming a judge, she grapples with the stifling expectations of her new family, who look upon her aspirations with disdain, eager to see her conform to the traditional role of a “good wife.” Meanwhile, their desire for personal favours from her, pressuring her husband, adds another layer of complexity to her experience.

The film intricately explores the turbulent dynamics that Jin-suk navigates as both a judge and a family member. She receives staunch support from her father-in-law and father, who championed her academic pursuits. In sharp contrast, her mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and husband harbour bitterness towards Jin-suk, fueled by jealousy of her accomplishments.

Significantly, ‘A Woman Judge’ underwent a laborious restoration effort, addressing portions that had lost their original audio, yet some scenes remain tragically absent, resulting in a disjointed narrative flow. The visual distinction between the traditional hanbok attire and Western fashion not only offers an aesthetic contrast but also powerfully underscores the broader tensions between Korean tradition and emerging modernity.

Hong’s direction artfully juxtaposes Jin-suk’s character with her various family members, notably her sister-in-law Geum-won, played by Bang Seong-ja. Geum-won is a cunning figure who often pressures their father for financial handouts to satiate her desires, perpetually at odds with Jin-suk’s presence and success. She disdainfully scolds Jin-suk, stating, “Oh, your work is more important than your husband,” emphasising the underlying familial tension. Similarly, the family matriarch, Oh Hwa-young (portrayed by Um Aing-ran), directs her frustration toward Jin-suk, claiming her ambition undermines the male pride needed for men to be successful.

‘A Woman Judge’ holds significant cultural importance, being directed by a woman and narrating the story of South Korea’s pioneering female judge. Although Hong Eun-won chose to modify the story for a more optimistic conclusion, the plot often feels fragmented, potentially influenced by historical censorship. While it bravely confronts the stark realities faced by women like Jin-suk, who yearn for more than the confines of domestic life, the execution leaves a lingering sense of incompleteness, rendering the narrative somewhat indecisive in its overall proclamation amidst its admirable intentions.

 The complete film is available below, courtesy of the Korean Film Archive YouTube channel, Korean Classic Film.

Hommage (오마주) 2021

‘Hommage‘ (오마주) is a 2021 film directed by the talented Shin Su-won, featuring the compelling performance of Lee Jung-eun as Kim Ji-wan. Ji-wan is a struggling female movie director sinking into disappointment after her latest project, ‘Ghost Man’, fails to attract an audience. Hommage however fared much better, the film received significant acclaim on the festival circuit, debuting at the prestigious 34th Tokyo International Film Festival and capturing attention at festivals in Sydney, Glasgow, Jeonju, and Tribeca. Its artistic merit ultimately earns it the Jury Prize, the highest accolade at the 20th Florence Korean Film Festival. Shin Su-won and Lee Jung-eun received awards, both domestically and internationally in recognition of their work.

Kim Ji-wan, a middle-aged director under increasing pressure, grapples with the anxiety brought on by her film’s failure. Faced with mounting demands from her family and the looming threat of her production company’s closure, she teeters on the edge of abandoning her cherished dream in favour of a more secure, conventional lifestyle. However, a turning point arrives: a phone call inviting her to revive ‘A Woman Judge’, a pioneering film released in 1962 by Hong Eun-won, one of the only female directors in Korean cinema at the time – about the first female judge in Korea. The narrative explores Hong’s project and its significant personal and cultural impact, as sixty years later it inspires Ji-wan to keep swimming along.

The film intricately weaves Ji-wan’s journey as she confronts her relationships with her husband and son, who constantly push her to fulfil traditional roles as a devoted mother and wife, trying to relegate her dreams to the background. In stark contrast, her connection with one-time colleagues of Hong Eun-won transforms the restoration project into an invaluable source of motivation and purpose, guiding her toward self-discovery and creative revitalisation.

Visually, the film frequently depicts Ji-wan staring thoughtfully into mirrors, her expressions reflecting a sombre introspection as she grapples with her identity and aspirations. A recurring motif of swimming serves as a metaphor for her struggles – while other women glide effortlessly through the water, Ji-wan flounders, fighting against the currents, desperately thrashing to stay afloat and keep moving forward always comparing herself to others. Shadows dance across her path, symbolizing the enduring presence of Hong Eun-won in Ji-wan’s mind, creating a haunting echo of conversations that bridge past struggles with Ji-wan’s present realities.

As the narrative unfolds, Ji-wan’s experience as a middle-aged woman confronting the challenges of menopause and various health issues while trying to continue her work as a director comes to the forefront. Compounded by familial pressures to meet the traditional expectations of a housewife. The film also sheds light on the experiences of Hong Eun-won in the film industry during the 1960s. A striking moment occurs when Ji-wan, in disbelief, learns that a scene from ‘A Woman Judge‘ was cut due to a woman smoking, highlighting the absurdity of evolving societal norms.

The film delves into the efforts of the Korean Film Archive, whose mission is to safeguard and preserve significant cinematic works like ‘A Woman Judge‘ (check out their YouTube channel here). The intertwined narratives of Hong Eun-won and Kim Ji-wan present a vivid picture of the struggles faced by modern middle-aged women in their pursuit of cinematic dreams, echoing the societal judgments and constraints encountered by their predecessors decades ago. Through Ji-wan’s reflections, the film powerfully suggests that while progress has occurred since 1962, the fight against entrenched challenges continues.