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Monday, May 10, 2004

A Wicked Ghost

1999, Hong Kong. Starring Gabriel Harrison, Francis Ng, Gigi Lai, Mok Ga-yiu, Cecilia Sze. Directed by Tony Leung Hung-wah. Available on DVD (HKFlix).

Well, fans of horror, I have good news, and I have bad news. The good news is that director Tony Leung seems committed to single-handedly keeping the Hong Kong horror film alive. The bad news is that Tony Leung isn't a very good filmmaker.

Now before you fire off an angry email telling me how great Tony Leung is, keep in mind that I am not referring to the Tony Leung who starred in Ashes of Time. Nor am I referring to the Tony Leung who starred in Tom, Dick, and Hairy. No, feeling that the Hong Kong film industry wasn't complete with just two guys calling themselves Tony Leung, writer-director Leung Hung-wah decided that he too would become Tony Leung, joining an ever-growing cast of characters favoring that particular name combination.

Leung Hung-wah got his start in the early 1980s as an actor in a few films not many people remember. In 1986, he penned his first screenplay, Ghost Snatchers, which starred Michael Wong and Sammo Hung's knock-out (in more ways than one) wife Joyce Godenzi. When Leung crossed over into directing, his interest in low-budget horror films became apparent. Mystery Files was his first directorial effort, and in 1999 he followed it up with A Wicked Ghost, an obvious though not entirely dismissible attempt to cash in on the popularity of the Japanese horror film Ring.


As anyone who has tested the waters of the world of Hong Kong horror well knows, it's a strange place even in the world of horror. Action, kungfu, melodrama, slapstick comedy, and chills are often thrown together in a mish-mash of styles that rarely work well together, giving one the impression of watching several different movies at once, sort of like those Thomas Tang/Godfrey Ho ninja movies. Although there are several good Hong Kong horror films - most notably Chinese Ghost Story and Mr. Vampire -- even those are difficult to accept as pure "horror" within the boundaries set by Western expectations. Chinese Ghost Story is more a fantasy film, and Mr. Vampire is as much a kungfu comedy as it is any sort of horror film.

Part of this vast difference in approaches can simply be attributed to the fact that tastes around the world vary. Chinese audiences have different expectations of what a horror film should be like, and since they have a wealth of local mythology from which to draw, there's no real need to plumb the depths of Western genre traditions for ideas. Hopping vampires may not be scary to Western audiences, but how scary is some old count in an opera cape to your average cranky old Chinese guy? For every werewolf there is a Fox spirit; for every zombie there is, well, a kungfu zombie. For every Medusa there is a witch whose head comes off and flies around the room screaming at you.

On the opposite side of the coin is Japan, a country which embraced Western definitions of horror and ran with them so successfully that, in the view of many people, Japan has become the preeminent producer of the world's finer horror films now that the Americans and Italians have run out of ideas. Japan and the West have always had closer relations than China and the West (that whole World War II incident not withstanding). It hasn't always been a smooth relationship, but it's always been a relationship. Western film had a big influence on Japanese films, and Japanese films, in turn, ended up having just as big an influence on The West. Throw a rock in a video store, and there's a good chance you'll knock over two Don "The Dragon" Wilson movies and at least one film that steals plot points from an Akira Kurosawa film.


Japan's approach to horror was to take Western influences and put a decidedly Japanese spin on them. Nobuo Nakagawa revolutionized the genre with films like Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan and Jigoku, one of the world's first "splatter" films. They are distinctly Japanese, but they're also familiar to fans of classic horror films. Hell, a good ghost story is a good ghost story regardless of whether the people in it are wearing kimonos or overcoats. Japan continued to play with classical notions of horror, tweaking them enough so that they were unique and fresh while still not being completely alien to foreign viewers in the way many Hong Kong productions were.

In 1999, the film The Ring hit the screens and threw gasoline onto a smoldering fire that had been started by films like Wizard of Darkness, Birth of the Wizard, and by the horror comics of HP Lovecraft-influenced Junji Ito. Japanese film and manga makers discovered that Japanese girls have a voracious appetite for tales of horror, especially when the protagonists are people they can relate to - namely, other girls. That this whole batch of books, comics, and movies gets dubbed 'schoolgirl horror" is somewhat misleading, conjuring up as it does images of tales roughly on the level of an RL Stine book. On the contrary, many of the films are quite good, quite scary, and surprisingly gory. They are a natural progression from the fact that horror has often favored female protagonists. The big difference is that the gals in these films were less likely to do incredibly stupid things thanks to the fact that the writers creating them were far better than your average slasher script penman.

In the wake of The Ring's success, the whole genre acquired mainstream appeal, and "Ring" movies themselves became something of a cottage industry. A sequel to the original was put into production under the name Raisen or Spiral (not to be confused with another schoolgirl horror film, Uzumaki, which can be translated as meaning "Spiral"). Ring director Hideo Nakata, who was not involved in the sequel, didn't like the way it carried on the vision of his film, and so he set out to make his own official sequel, simply known as Ring 2. There was a television series, a third "prequel" called Ring 0: Birthday, and a Korean adaptation of the same original novel called Ring Virus.

Somewhere amid all the noise was Tony Leung with his Wicked Ghost film. Along with Bio-Zombie, it's one of the few Hong Kong horror films to bear a resemblance to the style preferred by the Japanese and Western horror films, though there's enough esoteric Chinese superstition in it for it to maintain its own cultural identity. While not exactly a rip-off of The Ring, A Wicked Ghost certainly steals willy-nilly from the superior Japanese film as it weaves its own mythology of an angry ghost lashing out from beyond the grave. The most obvious example is the appearance of the ghost itself, which manifests as a pale white woman with long, ragged black hair hanging in front of her face. Similarities to Sadako from Ring are unavoidable. She even has the same weird herky-jerky way of walking.

The plot steals the same basic structure as well, though to its credit, it does change it enough so as not to be a complete act of plagiarism. Trouble begins immediately when a group of friends are playing one of those "let's summon up some ghosts" type games at a party. The game requires them to each slit their finger, drip blood into a bowl of water then take turns drinking it. You know, I played my share of supernatural ghost-summoning games when I was younger, and I have to say that I draw the line at any game that involves slicing my finger and drinking the blood of my pals. Most people I know are hesitant to even drink from the same cup as one of their friends, let alone gleefully consume a mixture of their precious bodily fluids. When you add to it the fact that you have to mix in "some oil from a dead body," it really just becomes time to call it a night. It's not even that it has anything to do with being afraid of ghosts; there just have to be better games you can play with your friends than ones involving you drinking dead body oil and blood.

One of the friends, Ming, seems to agree with me, and he'll have none of this drinking of bloody water and corpse oil. His friends go ahead with the fun, and before too long, ghostly wind blows through the apartment and one of the friends, a guy named Rubbish, has died of extreme fright after seeing a ghost. His face is frozen in an expression meant to convey either "I am terrified beyond the comprehension of mortals" or "I'm hungry." Just as the impetus for the action - a group of friends who invoke an otherworldly force and are then mysteriously killed off - mimics the same basic plot from Ring about a group of friends summoning a similar force after watching a cursed videotape, so too is the horrified expression a somewhat less effective imitation of the look of fear all the victims in Ring take with them to the grave.

Continuing to pull wildly from Ring the movie introduces Ming's reporter sister, Cissy (Gigi Lai), and her (seemingly) ex-boyfriend, Mo, a teacher who seems to possess psychic powers and an uncanny though very handy knowledge of all things supernatural. Similarities between them and female reporter Reiko and her ex-husband and resident psychic teacher and expert on the paranormal, Ryuji, is purely coincidental. Mo is played by one of the better actors to never really hit the big-time, Francis Ng. He's got talent enough to lend an air of credibility to an otherwise outlandish film, although his effectiveness here was somewhat undermined by the fact that the film did not shoot with synch sound (as was common in Hong Kong up until a year or so ago) and the original actors did not do their own dubbing in post-production. So instead of Francis Ng, you get someone doing a weird soft-spoken Francis Ng impersonation.


At one point, the film even shows a second-long clip of the disturbing Sadako video from Ring, though it has nothing to do with the actual plot. There's also the old man who is the key to figuring out much of the mystery, a body that needs to be properly laid to rest in order to end the curse, and the revelation at some point that what they thought was the answer was, in fact, wrong. For people who have seen Ring, the greater plot is very familiar indeed, and that hurts the film. It hurts mainly because this movie is no Ring, and having so many images and elements lifted from the superior film means you're going to sit there for much of the film thinking about how much better Ring was.

Ming and Mo figure out that the spirit-raising game has summoned an angry ghost who is tricking everyone into killing themselves. Efforts to figure out a way to stop the ghost are confused when people with no connection t the game start dying as well. And why is it that Ming, who didn't take part in the game, can see the ghost? As in Ring, it becomes a race against the clock to solve the mystery before it claims the lives of more people. Although built in pretty much the same fashion as the plot from Ring the writing here is not entirely derivative. There are some fairly unique twists and surprises that keep the movie from being a complete joke. Although undermined by the huge amount of cribbing of images and scenes the film does, somewhere beneath the Ring-exploitation was a halfway decent story that never got a fair chance.

Mo's weird little crackpot theories about the transference of emotion are actually somewhat interesting within the context of the film, though I always wonder why every professor in every horror or sci-fi film is always featured in a lecture scene during which they're espousing some half-baked pet hypothesis. I had my fair share of crackpot professors, but none of them spent the entire class period rambling on about the "the lost amulet of Nagath-nor" or anything like that. Yet film professors are always on about something similar. Mo's lecture is about how emotion can become a sort of energy that can be transferred from one source to another. That's why we feel sad when we watch a sad movie or feel angry when we watch Saving Silverman. As far as crackpot theories go, it's not a bad one, and it ties in well with the plot of the movie revolving around a murder victim (who was an actress, just to keep the theme going) who transfers her rage in the form of a ghost.

The most notable different between the films is in the female reporter. While Reiko was the driving force behind the action in The Ring, Cissy's role here is more or less disposable. She's there to shout at her brother for hanging out with people who summon demons, and she's there to be a convenient link between Ming and Mo. The love triangle between her, Mo, and her fiancee Jack attempts to give her character some reason for being in the film, but it's never really developed to the point that it matters much. When Mo accepts the ghost's curse alongside Cissy in the end so he can help her survive the attack, it could just have easily happened without the underdeveloped subplot involving Jack. The subplot doesn't hurt the film; it just doesn't add much to it.

With Cissy relegated to the ranks of screaming woman, her brother Ming, who works closely with Mo to unravel the mystery surrounding just what ghost it is they've awakened, picks up the action. Although he's on screen a lot, Ming fails to develop into an interesting character. When the plot throws us one it's many somewhat successful curveballs toward the end, the fact that it involves a character as bland as Ming saps it of some of the power. Additionally, the fact that almost no character other than Mo generates any sort of sympathy means that the movie fails to create any sense of urgency or tension. With Ring, a mounting sense of hysteria grew from the fact that we actually liked Ryuji and Reiko, and we even liked their weird little son. We didn't want to see them succumb to the curse. We wanted to see them succeed, and we wanted that because the film took time to establish positive character traits for them. With Wicked Ghost, we meet most of the cast during the seance, and their next scene is the one in which they die. In between, there is nothing to make us feel like we should care one way or the other.

Even with all his screen time, Ming doesn't fare much better. Part of the problem again is the dub job. Dubbing Hong Kong movies was pretty much the way things were done, and still are for most low-budget productions. It was a practical decision more than anything. Shooting synched sound is expensive, for one. Since Hong Kong films were seen by as many Mandarin speakers as they were Cantonese speakers, and since the differences between the two dialects make them more or less different languages, the films would be dubbed anyway for the Mandarin speakers. Not shooting with sound also meant that multiple productions could occupy the same limited real estate in Hong Kong for location work. Most of the time, the actors would come in and do their own voices, and the end effect was such that you could hardly tell. Sometimes, certain actors would even dub their own Mandarin tracks as well. And of course, Jet Li was almost always dubbed by someone else regardless of the language, because he has a chipmunk voice.

Why they went with entirely different actors to do the dubbing in Wicked Ghost is beyond me. How expensive can Gigi Lai and Gabriel Harrison (Ming) be? A good actor can survive a bad dub job, which is why Francis Ng emerges in fair condition, but Gabriel Harrison is pretty green, and his facial expressions and body language are not effective enough to compensate for the lackluster dubbing. In one scene, as he watches his girlfriend become possessed by the ghost and attempt to kill herself by eating a party mix of pills, the general idea is that he's too paralyzed by fear to simply rush over and stop her. The weak voice work combined with Gabriel's pouty expression make it come across as if he's simply too lazy or unconcerned to walk across the room and deal with the problem. The viewers have to keep reminding themselves that there's a ghost in the room, because the movie itself fails to communicate that.

Looking scared is harder than you might think. Your average terrified person doesn't stop to make a mental note of how their face contorts when they're seized by terror. The common manifestation is to simply scream and scrunch your nose up. If you've ever been really scared, and I mean really really scared, you know that screaming is one of the least likely reactions to the situation. It's actually a lot subtler, and Gabriel Harrison hasn't got it down yet. Hiroyuki Sanada has a wonderful look of terror at the end of Ring when he has his revelation about the ghost. It's a face twitch and a look of bewildered horror that is beautifully communicated. When you see it, you can nod and go, "Yep, that's the look of a terrified man." Although it's an unlikely source, another of film's greatest looks of terror comes in the beginning of Ghostbusters. When Dan Akroyd and Harold Ramis are running out of the library after being frightened by a ghost, the "I'm about to puke" look of panic on Akroyd's face is priceless, and even though it's a comedy, it's a perfect glimpse of a genuinely scared person.

Harrison's best offering is to look vaguely confused. It doesn't do the trick, and especially in the scene where his possessed girlfriend is gobbling prescription drugs, it works against his character.

As Cissy's fiancee Jack, Mok Ga-yiu is somewhat successful. He plays one of those guys who is sort of a dick, but not in a way where you can really just hate him. He doesn't actually do anything bad; he just seems like he might. Gigi Lai is an experienced actress, but she's given so little to do here that it really doesn't matter one way or the other.

Technically the film is somewhat awkward. Hong Kong horror has always favored weird point-of-view zooms and Hitchcockian weird angles and camera tricks. There's nothing in Leung's direction that is so bad you could brand it an outright fault, but the movie does possess the look of what it is: someone's second film. There's an inexperience to the proceedings, and that results in tension lost. Leung hasn't really got down how to build anxiety or deliver a sufficient pay-off. Most of the films attempts at scares consist of something popping into view along with a blast of "fright" music. Unfortunately, it telegraphs just about all these instances, so you don't even get the cheap jump. Although the plot manages to rise above what you might expect, the actual composition of the film never escapes predictability. With a few exceptions, you know when the scare attempts are coming, and you know what they're going to look like. It's a marked difference between this movie and Ring, which I found to be one of the most successfully and genuinely scary horror films I'd seen in a long time.

A Wicked Ghost isn't totally without chills, though, and from time to time you can catch a glimpse of potential in Leung's work. The trappings of Chinese superstition always lend an air of eeriness to things, but Leung's most successful segments come when the investigation into the origins of the ghost lead Ming to an abandoned village that was the scene of a mass murder/suicide spree in which sixty-six people were killed in a span of three days. The setting itself is creepy by default, even in broad daylight, but when Ming wanders into a decrepit temple, Leung has one of his best moments. The camera pans around in point-of-view style, taking in all the decay, but when it comes back in the direction from which it came, we begin to catch glimpses of hunched over figures kneeling in the rubble. It's the film's most effective moment, although the shot in which Ming sees the ghost clinging to the back of one of his friend's is pretty good as well.

Likewise little images here and there, like the long-haired ghost sinking slowly into a pond or a scene in a washroom where the ghost of an old guy just wanders in to freak people out. There's also a decent scene in which a character morphs into the ghost. Sure, the movie fails more than it succeeds, but the successes are actually pretty creepy. Leung manages to subvert the familiar world by placing these otherworldly apparitions in very run-of-the-mill settings with nothing special about them. Traditionally in Hong Kong horror, supernatural shenanigans are accompanied by someone shining green spotlights all over the place, green being the color of all things ghostly in Chinese mythology. Leung avoids the obvious in this respect, opting instead (possibly because of budgetary constraints) to play the scenes straight. For me, seeing some creepy ghost limp around an otherwise normal apartment is scarier than if that apartment was suddenly bathed in a green glow. One of the most effective ways to unnerve people is to warp what they think they know.

And then there's the ghost, Mei. Yes indeed she's 100% a rip-off of Sadako from Ring. But you know what? Even in light of that, she's still a little spooky. Sadako had one of the most effective, creepy appearances of any creature in any horror film. Just imagine glancing out the window to see her standing on the corner of the street, slowly coming toward you. Sadako's look was a stroke of horror genius, and any movie that rips that look off is going to reap a little residual chill from it. Original? Not in the least, but it still works.

Flashes of good filmmaking are part of what make this movie frustrating. It's not without its merits. Although shamelessly distilled from The Ring, the story is not bad. Revelations about the fate of the woman who would become the vengeful ghost result in a sympathy for her that is, unfortunately, somewhat bungled in the finale. There are enough twists to keep the story interesting, and if more thought had been put into the characters, the movie might have survived being a Ring knock-off and acquired more of an audience. It's a fairly accessible mix of Chinese myth and good ol' fashioned ghost story that translates into any culture, but the slapdash nature of the characters is shallow even for a horror film.


The final scene is something of a flawed gem as well. There is no real resolution to the problem of Mei slinking around and killing people. Sure, Mo and Cissy manage to break the curse on them, but what about all the other people? In a nice bit of writing, the woman who had a husband who was willing to kill her in order to save himself is moved by Mo, who in contrast to Mei's husband is willing to sacrifice himself in order to save Cissy. It wuold seem at first that this act has quelled Mei's murderous rage, but then Jack goes and attracts her attention, and we see that it's really only Mo and Cissy who have been saved. What becomes of Mei and of the other innocent people who were unwittingly cursed remains unknown.

A Wicked Ghost is more ambitious than it is successful, but even ambition is an admirable trait in a movie that could have just been a rip-off with no attempt to do anything different. From his filmography as writer and director, one has to assume that Tony Leung loves horror films, and as I said in the beginning, I appreciate his attempts to keep horror in Hong Kong alive. As flawed as A Wicked Ghost is, there is effort put into it. Tony Leung isn't just some Wong Jing type who will dash any old crap off to make a fast buck off a trend. No, Leung may have been hoping to cash in on Ring's success, but he was also looking to make a good film. There's effort behind the direction, effort behind the writing, and there's effort behind the acting. That the effort is never fully realized or that it is undercut by bad dubbing doesn't change the fact that the attempt alone is worth at least one viewing.

Within the realm of Hong Kong horror, A Wicked Ghost looks better despite it's sundry flaws. It avoids entirely the tendency toward sophomoric slapstick comedy that so many other Hong Kong horror films can't help but indulge. It plays itself straight and with more respect for classical horror than you usually see from Hong Kong. It also manages to be more than just a series of shots in which five people scream and run from one room to another, which is a description that fits more than a few Hong Kong chillers. The fact that it steals fromRing means that it also attempts to be as good. It isn't, but it's better for having tried. Characters are bland, but they're not annoying. Well, Jack is sort of annoying, but we can forgive him. There is a lot that isn't good about this film, but there's a lot that is could, or could have been could with just a little more tweaking.

One thing that keeps the movie slightly alien to non-Chinese viewers would be the rather blase and at times downright callous attitudes toward death some of the characters exhibit. Part of this can be attributed to the bad voice acting, but part of it just grows from a culture where the dead are dealt with in a different fashion, like constant companions hopping around the netherworld. My favorite example of this is in a scene where an older guy is on an elevator and is suddenly approached by the ghost of a dead loved one. Perhaps you would react with fright, or maybe you'd just go into shock. His reaction is simply to make a sort of annoyed face and go, "Leave me alone. You're already dead." Within the framework of Hong Kong horror films, people don't react especially strongly to death because the assumption is that ghosts exist, and that is that. There's very little skepticism presented. In light of that, it's not so difficult to understand why people aren't more upset by death. They know whoever has died is still lurking around somewhere; they're just in a different form.


To say A Wicked Ghost is one the better straight horror films in Hong Kong isn't saying much. For one, there just aren't that many films like it that play it straight with the horror instead of resorting to slapstick antics, softcore porn, or kungfu - or all of the above. Hong Kong has never been shy about mixing genres, after all. What does exist really isn't very good. Biozombie is a decent measuring stick since both are from around the same time, and both are more in line with American and Japanese horror films than is usual for Hong Kong fare. Biozombie is a better-looking movie, with a bigger budget and better acting. A Wicked Ghost is the more enjoyable film, in my opinion, because the characters aren't nearly as shrill and the plot endeavors to be more than just run-of-the-mill video game mentality nonsense. It tries to be somewhat intelligent, somewhat peculiar. I'd watch it again, where as I'm a lot less likely to ever want to endure all the shrieking and idiotic comedy of Biozombie.

It isn't entirely successful, but truth be told, I enjoyed A Wicked Ghost. It's an underdog of a film. Sort of sloppy. Not fully realized. Full of problems, not the least of which being the fact that it steals en masse from Ring, sometimes just for the hell of it. But by God, despite all that, the movie tries hard. Tony Leung puts his heart into writing a script that strives to be more than a collection of scenes in which people run around screaming. He summons up the spirit of a good horror film, and although it doesn't quite materialize, the end result is still interesting and, at least for me, fairly enjoyable once I got over the Ring rips. I appreciate that it sticks to horror convention and doesn't wander all over the place in an attempt to be all things to all audiences. No kungfu, no wacky hijinks, no lame comic relief characters. Just straight-up horror. It's still a rarity in Hong Kong, and that makes this film something special.

Far from a perfect film, but not a bad film, A Wicked Ghost deserves a look if for no other reason than it tried to be something a little more than the usual fare. If you're a fan of Ring and all the associated works that came with it, then you should check out this movie, even if it's just as a curiosity piece. If you're just looking for some interesting horror, you could do worse than A Wicked Ghost. If the future of horror in Hong Kong rests in the hands of Tony Leung, we won't be getting any high works of art, just like he won't be getting any big budgets. But we've got a guy over there who seems to genuinely likes horror and who seems to want to experiment with it a little. We've got a guy who might do something pretty good in the future, and who will at least be interesting to watch progress.

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Saturday, November 01, 2003

Dead or Alive

1999, Japan. Starring Sho Aikawa, Riki Takeuchi, Ren Osugi, Tomorowo Taguchi, Hitoshi Ozawa, Susumu Terajima, Renji Ishibashi, Shingo Tsurumi, Kaoru Sugita. Directed by Takashi Miike. Available on DVD (HKFlix).

The first five minutes of Takashi Miike's ground-breaking, outrageously over-the-top yakuza film Dead or Alive contains more hard-hitting coolness, blood, and sleaze than any ten action films you can name. In an opening montage set to a screeching distorted rock tune, you get suicide, a guy snorting a thirty foot long line of coke, a guy eating buckets of ramen only to get shot in the belly and have all the noodles explode out of his body, two guys screwing in a dirty bathroom until one gets beheaded and the other laps up the squirting blood not realizing it isn't the bodily fluid he thinks it is, a sexy grinding stripper, tongue waggling, motorcycle riding, grenades, machine guns, pump action shotguns hidden in clown statues, and murders galore. I'm pretty sure I left a lot out, but you get the general idea.

Most directors couldn't or wouldn't even dream of cramming this much madness into a whole movie, let alone the first few minutes. After all, how can you sustain yourself after an opening that puts the action content of most action films to shame? One thing's for damn sure, Dead Or Alive is going to give us one hell of a ride as we find out.

For those unfamiliar with the man, Miike is one of the most prolific, talented, sick, and controversial directors to come out of Japan since. well, ever. He first caught the eye of the cult film community with the release of his gloriously grueling yakuza gorefest Fudoh: The New Generation. Since then, he has moved forward like a relentless machine, making movies that fall all over the spectrum. There are slowburn suspense thrillers that explode in the final minutes into orgies of depraved violence (Audition). There are "family comedies" that feature such delightful elements as a necropheliac man obsessed with his teen hooker daughter and his wife who just can't get enough of making her own breasts squirt milk all over the house (Visitor Q). There are wild but comparatively tame action farces featuring Matrix and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon spoofs done during a cockfight (City of Lost Souls).

And believe it or not, the guy even has a few cute teenie-bopper and touching adventure films to his name (Andromedia and Bird People of China). Say what you will about the man, but if nothing else, he's intent on proving that he's more than a one-trick pony who relies on over-the-top gore and completely tasteless sleaze to make a name for himself, not that those things have hurt him in the eyes of anyone but Japanese ratings boards and most of the sane movie-going public.

With so much going on, much of it often disgusting and offensive, it's easy to fail to notice that, above all else, the guy is fabulously talented. Witness Dead or Alive's out of control opening montage as an example. Expertly edited, franticly paced, superbly shot, and just plain cool beyond words, not since John Woo in his late 1980s prime has there been a film with so strong an opening. Feeling almost like you're watching a preview rather than part of the actual film, these first few minutes will make you want to stick around for the rest, guaranteed, if for no other reason than to see if the movie can top sexy, sweaty strippers and a guy with a bunch of ramen noodles exploding out of his stomach.

Not being one to take the easy route, Miike shocks everyone further by not even bothering to try and top the opening. Once the initial insanity is over, Dead or Alive settles into a fairly conventionally paced Japanese yakuza film, which is the polite way of saying it's pretty slow - but not necessarily dull as a result. Heck, only in a Miike film can blowjobs, car bombs, bestiality, and a woman drowned in a kiddy pool of her own feces be considered conventional. Those disgusting sidesteps - which are more absurd than they are offensive - are just one of the many ways Miike keeps you aware of the fact that despite outward appearances, this is hardly yakuza business as usual.

After the explosive opening sequence, our action picks up (or rather, slows down, just to mess with you) with opposite sides of the same coin. Hotshot yakuza thug Ryu (Riki Takeuchi) is looking to make a big move in the underworld that involves robbery and setting off a turf war between the local Japanese Yakuza and Chinese Triad societies. Complicating his ruthlessness is a straight-arrow younger brother just back from college in America - an academic career he later discovers was financed by his brother's illicit activities. Ryu and his gang are a curious bunch, the offspring of Japanese people raised in China (zanryu koji). They are alienated from both countries and cultures. They have no allegiance to any nation, and no nation seems to want them. Their origins are important to the overall theme of the film, and to a reoccurring theme in much of Miike's richly varied filmography. They are characters torn from their roots, or with no roots in the first place. Dead or Alive sets itself immediately as something more than gross-out action exploitation by dwelling on questions regarding a culture detached from its roots and thus adrift with no real identity.

The other side of the coin is beleaguered cop Jojima (Sho Aikawa), who has been tempted into corruption by the necessity to pay for an expensive operation that can save his daughter's life. Like his nemesis, Jojima's relationship with his younger family member is strained, at best. Like Ryu, Jojima finds himself at odds with his roots, int his case his family, forsaking them in favor of doggedly applying himself to his work. In Jojima we see much of mainstream Japan, obsessed with careers to the exclusion of all else. Like Ryu, he is detached from the things he should care about and, in fact does care about. His care, however, is not deep enough to overcome his addiction to his career, just as Ryu's concern for his younger brother is not deep enough to make him consider leaving the criminal world.

Jojima and Ryu try to outfox one another as the film draws to its inevitably violent conclusion, but the so-called "slow" middle portion actually has quite a lot going for it, much of it very subversive to the gangster genre. For one, there is Ryu. Unlike most of the "killer with a heart of gold" types we've been forced to endure ever since the rest of the world starting doing bad imitations of John Woo, Ryu not only doesn't have a heart of gold, he scarcely has any heart at all. At the same time, his ruthlessness is made comprehensible by the conditions in which he was raised. But he seeks no redemption, does no life-altering soul-searching. He is a product of how he was raised, and he has no interest in altering his being.

Jojima, at the same time, is forced by circumstances to explore the world of corruption, taking a loan from an underworld crime boss in order to save his daughter's life, even though she shows no real gratitude or relief, having written off her workaholic, detached father years ago. As the movie winds its way toward the inevitable final showdown between Ryu and Jojima, it also winds toward a more important and substantial thematic climax - the corruption and eventual destruction of innocence by the evil all around it.

Ryu's brother and Jojima's daughter are ultimately doomed by the darkness in their elders, by the obsession their suppose caretakers possess to the exclusion of seeing much else. For Ryu, it is the conquest of the old guard gangsters. For Jojima, it is the conquest of Ryu. Jojima's daughter has her operation paid for with dirty money, and though innocent, she ultimately pays the price. Likewise, Ryu's younger brother has his college career paid for with Ryu's blood money. Two futures bought by dirty money that ultimately end up being no futures at all.

Ryu and Jojima are equally doomed, and the finale of the film picks the pace up considerably while completely defying easy interpretation. It is, to say the least, apocalyptic, and an utterly mind-bending but appropriate way to end such a nihilistic piece of storytelling. What Miike is attempting to say is anybody's guess. That countries can be destroyed by the out-of-control violence? That national identity is useless anyway? That he just thought this would really screw with people's heads? I'm not Miike, so I can't say for certain. Twist and shock endings are, more times than not, utterly annoying because they fail to shock or twist anything, and merely seemed tacked on because some idiot screenwriter thought it was clever. Horror films have pretty much beat the end-of-the-film zinger into the ground (and still can't seem to get enough of it), but recently a couple Japanese films have shown that it can still be used effectively to not only shock, but completely blow away the viewer. Ring and Versus both had tremendously powerful twist endings, Ring's augmenting the creepiness of the whole movie while Versus' just lets you know that you've been had for slavishly conforming to character expectations and conventions.

Dead or Alive's explosive finale can be called a twist ending, and while it may not make the greatest deal of sense at first, it is so gleefully over the top, so completely absurd, and so wonderfully insane that there's no way not to love it. Rather than deliver some big shoot-out or other scene typical of the genre, Miike takes the film way out into left field with hilarious and confounding results. And upon closer examination, there is a point to it beyond just freaking everyone out. Miike is exploring a world full of self-destructive characters, a world in which everything ha been sacrificed. Within the greater theme of the film, the finale suddenly makes perfect, darkly hilarious sense. Plus it illustrates one of my favorite sayings: you may not be able to fight City Hall, but you can sure as hell blow it up.

Peppering the film are excursions into the perverse underbelly of society, something Miike delights in dragging into the light, sometimes to the detriment of the film. At times sickly humorous (two small time punks trying to wrangle an unruly dog into a sex scene with a girl who obviously couldn't care less one way or the other) and at times just plain disturbing (the gangster who drowns a woman in her own feces), there's no doubt Miike had a purpose in throwing them in, even if the purpose is nothing more than to remind you that you're not watching a normal film. At the same time, some of it is a tad over-indulgent and serves as a distraction when something better attached to the film's plot would have been more effective. I'm well beyond the point of being offended by movies, no matter how far they push the envelope of bad taste, so my objection isn't moral. I guess I just would have preferred more street violence in place of those little forays into perversion. The stripper segments are pretty good, and they have a direct relation to what's going on. A couple of the other things, however, are asides at best, Miike being gross just to be gross. It's not like they harm the film - if nothing else, they certainly contribute to making it more memorable. Dunno. They just seemed sort of silly at times.

Granted, I'm in the minority here in preferring the more straight-forward melodrama and street action to the scenes of people drowning in excrement. Well, I guess I'm in the majority if you look at society as a whole, but definitely in the minority when it come sot fans of the film. It's not like I don't appreciate a good slapstick comedy scene about people having sex with a dog; I just don't find much power in it within the context of a gangster film. I like that it goes a long way to dispell any myth pertaining to the slick glamor of most underworld operations, and I like that it hits you like a lead balloon just as you were thinking you might be watching a normal movie. It's a matter of taste, I suppose. Takeshi Kitano has a similar stylistic approach (and believe me, this is no coincidence, as we'll get to in a minute or two) in that he loves to lull you into a sense of security by making his movie slow and harmless, only to blow your mind when a firestorm of violence comes out of nowhere. I guess I just respond better to violence than I do to sexual perversion, though if I had to chose between the two for my real life, I'd probably flip-flop so long as the perversion is good and fun and involves no animals or kiddy pools full of yesterday's dinner.

The story itself is somewhat contrived, but that's intentional. What elevates the movie above and beyond the realm of most other Yakuza films is Miike's nutty direction, which in itself is as important to telling the story as the script or actors. Thanks to Woo, those Matrix guys, the team of Wong Kar-wai and Christopher Doyle, and Saving Private Ryan, there are about a dozen stylistic tricks that every hack director in the world has to use now. There will be some action that suddenly snaps into the slow motion, then back into regular speed again. There will be grainy, shaky-cam shoot-out scenes. People will jump in slow motion while firing their guns. And there will probably be some "clever" colors and lighting and camera angles. Most directors ape these innovations with no real clue how to use them, or that they aren't fresh once you rip them off. There is no sense of purpose, no meaning to their direction. You can tell they're hacks whoa re just stealing style without the ideas behind them that actually made them interesting the first time around. The first time you see someone jump up in the air only to freeze there while the camera pans around, it's sort of novel. The fiftieth time it happens, you want to kill.

Miike has a lot of tricks and wild flare to his direction, but it's never derivative, and it always seems to have a point. Well, most of the time, anyway. The wildly successful opening sequence is a prime example. The pounding music, fast cuts, and hyperactive pacing are wonderful at communicating the feeling of being smack dab in the middle of the seedy, violent criminal nightlife of a wild part of town like Shibuya, though when we were there we saw only a few strippers and not a single fat guy with ramen noodles exploding out of his belly. I guess we should have spent less time in record and toy stores and more time in sleazy strip clubs, but then, that's true no matter what part of the country I'm in.

Crime films love to OD on style, and in doing so, they make the crime seem cool, or at least cool looking. What's more poetic than Chow Yun-fat in his white suit jumping in slow motion through a church with both guns a-blazing? Or Leon Lai picking his way through neon-lit back alleys as hip music drowns out all other sound? Dead OR Alive is so wonderful at bringing the real-life sleaze and dirt to the forefront, however, that there remains no vestige of coolness in the crime. Riki is cool looking, but he's also an asshole. When people die, they die suddenly and violently, not in slow motion with opera music playing. While I'd stop way short of calling the film "realistic," there is a definite grimy realism in its depiction of the underworld, which is called "the underworld" for a reason. Miike is refreshing because, unlike most directors with a highly developed sense of style, he actually has a reason. He has something to say, even if it's wrapped up in the most audacious package one can imagine.

After grabbing your attention and setting the mood, he allows the film to coast on the adrenaline of that first segment, slowing things down to near Takeshi Kitano-like speeds but keeping enough weirdness around to prevent you from losing interest. After all, with an opening like that, you know something crazy is going happen eventually. Miike uses the relatively leisurely pace of the middle of the film to build the tension and anticipation to the final pay-off, which is the sort of pay-off no one could have seen coming. Miike knows exactly when to pull back so that he doesn't desensitize people the way a lot of MTV-edited overly loud blockbusters tend to do. Non-stop 100% action from end to end is actually a lot less interesting and exciting than it might sound at first, and Miike understands this.

On the acting front, the weakest actors here could be called "very good," or alternately, "damn good" if you are George Patton or Special Agent Cooper. Most of the time, it's downright superb. Riki Takeuchi is fast digging a hole for himself, typecast as the quintessential cool, ruthless young gangster with good hair. Frankly, that's not a bad gig. I've never been one to sympathize with those actors who bemoan the fact that they are typecast and never allowed to spread their artistic wings and prove themselves to the world. I know, it can spiritually fulfilling and all, but still, give me a break. I didn't learnt he craft of building webpages then sit around and complain about how no one will let me paint their portrait. Heart surgeons don't sit around complaining about how no one will ever let them prove themselves at brain surgery. If you have a talent, use it, and don't worry about being typecast. If you're typecast, it's because you're good at what you do.

Takeuchi kicks major ass as Ryu, managing to keep the character subtle even while engaging in the most outrageous antics imaginable (or unimaginable). Having worked in a slew of yakuza pics in recent years, the guy has the part down almost as well as Takakura Ken had it back in the day. He's cool, and he's got the snarl down like Elvis.

Conversely, Sho Aikawa brings his world-weary cop to life with perfection. Where Ryu's façade caps off a boiling cauldron of ambition, hatred, and anger, Jojima just seems like this tired guy who simply can't get a break to save his life. It's not an original character in either case. The ambitious young blood gangster and the world-weary cop tempted by corruption are staples of the crime genre in pretty much every country. It's left to Aikaiwa and Takeuchi (and Miike himself,t o a degree) to polish the characters, to turn them from something typical into something interesting and subversive. They perform with honors.

The supporting cast is solid as well, including as it does a bunch of thugs, criminals, doomed children, strippers, dog fuckers, and that guy with the kiddy pool. And you thought those Mos Eisley guys were wretched scum and villains. With a few exceptions, everyone here positively oozes seediness. You couldn't have gotten a better (or worse) feeling if you had just cast real killers and hustlers. In contrast to a lot of the gangster stuff that goes around, there is nothing glamorous, noble, or flashy about the underworld here. It's perverse, sweaty, confined to dark back rooms, and frequently violent. Oh sure, strippers are cool, but who can enjoy even the best stripper when the guy next to you is exploding? Hmm, something about that sentence just doesn't sound right.

Just as hollow, stylistic overkill is en vogue these days, so too is it trendy to dismiss every ragged piece of crap movie as a work of satirical genius. If you make an awful horror film and everyone pans it, just turn it around and go, "No, don't you see? It's supposed to be bad! It's a parody!" This annoys the unholy hell out of me, and it seems any old hunk of junk can protect itself by pretending to be a clever parody rather than an idiotic straight film. Takashi Miike uses Dead or Alive to remind us that true parody, true satire, is best accomplished when the lampooning is subtle (not that subtle is an adjective most people would apply to Miike) and the movie is actually, you know, good. He's not unlike Seijun Suzuki, who in the 1960s walked a very similar path in turning the yakuza film inside out by applying wild style and a cast of truly twisted characters in brilliant landmark films like Branded to Kill and Youth of the Beast.

Dead or Alive is equal parts Suzuki and Beat Takeshi taken to their most illogical extremes. Jojima looks more than a little like Takeshi Kitano looks in his various crime films, and the pacing in the middle of the film definitely tips you off to the fact that Miike is playing around with Beat's style, though he stops short of lengthy static shots of some guy looking at the camera. As I said earlier, where Takeshi Kitano would puncutate his pondering philosophical stretches with scenes of bleak and surprising violence, Takashi Miike opts instead for straight-up gross-out scenes, most of them involving bodily by-products and assorted fluids one doesn't want flung at oneself, not that you really want any sort of fluid, even clean water, being flung at you without your consent. The nihilistic tone definitely matches pace with Beat as well. Hell, he even used Hideo Yamamoto, the cinematographer on Takeshi Kitano's Hana-Bi! But then, of course, it all veers wildly into left field, taking nihilism itself to its most outrageous extreme in the finale, in which Ryu announces to all parties, "This is the final scene." Dead or Alive is a shining example of just how good satire can be when it's done by someone who actually knows what they're doing.

Although the gross-out factor will scare a lot of people away, let's face it: who really wanted those people around anyway? They can go watch the latest effort involving a pixie-like outsider who teaches us all the value of love and understanding as everyone smiles through their tears. Those who can cut through the slime will find Dead or Alive to be one of the most ferocious, funny, twisted, and original gangster films in years. Takashi Miike has taken a middling, predictable script and used it to turn an entire genre inside out and upside down. Genius is often mad, and they don't come madder than the genius of Takashi Miike. Dead Or Alive knows exactly what you expect, and it does its best to confound your expectations not by disappointing you, but by topping your imagination. It's one of the only films I've seen that not only subverts a genre, but manages to subvert itself with such abrupt changes in mood and pacing and such shocking but distracting forays into human oddity and perversion.

Many will love it, many will hate it, and some will no doubt try and get the damn thing banned. But make no mistake about it, Dead or Alive is a movie that is more than worth the time, and Takashi Miike makes sure that he takes everything you've seen before and delivers it in ways you've never seen before. Me? I thought it was absolutely brilliant.

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Thursday, May 22, 2003

Nowhere to Hide

1999, South Korea. Starring Joong-Hoon Park, Sung-kee Ahn, Dong-Kun Jang, Ji-Woo Choi. Directed by Myung-se Lee. Available on DVD (HKFlix).

All I ask of an action film is that it entertains me. I'm not a demanding viewer most of the time. I'm easy to satisfy, and I don't think that makes me simple-minded. No, there are plenty of other things that do that. As long as the movie isn't god-awful boring or just plain full of crap, I'll probably at least enjoy my time watching it, even if it isn't the sort of thing I'd ever buy. Frankly, I'd much rather sit through a dumb but exciting action film than a boring one that tries to be smart and fails miserably. Swordfish, I'm looking in your direction. At least a dumb action movie lets you know immediately where you stand.

At the same time, I hate a lot of big, dumb action movies like that third Die Hard film. Is this a contradiction? Hypocrisy? Well, don't try to figure me out. I'm one of those hedge mazes, baby, and you could get lost in my leafy green complexity.

Just because I don't need a film to be smart doesn't mean I don't want a film to be smart. It's icing on the cake. So I was delighted when I sat down to watch Nowhere to Hide, another in the increasingly long line of top-notch Korean action films I've been getting around to watching lately. On the surface it is a simple story of a cop chasing a killer. It plays to all the genre cliches that come with the territory: the cop is on the edge and has an unhappy (or non-existent) normal life, the criminal is cool and calculating, the cops are as brutal as the criminals, etc etc. If you were to read a simple plot synopsis, there would be nothing in it to suggest that Nowhere to Hide was anything more than a run-of-the-mill actioner no different than a thousand other films.

Obviously, I wouldn't have prefaced this whole thing with that bit about smart movies if there wasn't something more at play here than a run-of-the-mill action film.

There are, first and foremost, two rather spectacular things about the film that set it apart from the pack. First is the visual style, which manages to be unique even in today's atmosphere of style run rampant, with everyone seeming to forget that a movie needs more than "cool visuals" to be entertaining. If all you can do is make cool visuals, become a painter. We'll get to that later, because what I want to discuss first is the more subtle thing going on in Nowhere to Hide, primarily because it's something that doesn't get discussed too much since everyone is busy obsessing over the visual style and forgetting the rest of the film.

The most unique thing about this movie is it's near complete lack of gunplay. In a romantic comedy, this wouldn't be so spectacular a thing, but in an action film about out-of-control cops chasing a wily killer, one expects a certain amount of shooting to occur, or at least a certain amount of guys waving guns around over their head. Not so here, where guns are almost never a factor, save for one time. And in that one time, the fact that a gun has been used is a source of major concern for all involved. As such, at least from an American perspective, and from the perspective of someone who watches a lot of action films from all over the world, Nowhere to Hide is something surprising and unique, a counterbalance to the rather nonchalant use of guns in just about every other film in the genre.

No one would ever say that Hong Kong action films are free of gunplay. For American fans at least, John Woo defines Hong Kong action cinema (even if he was less popular in Hong Kong), and his movies are defined by the interaction of people and pistols. Even Jackie Chan, whose movies revolve around stunts and martial arts, frequently uses guns whenever he's playing a cop. In American films, guns are a given. The most famous cinematic cop in America is probably Dirty Harry, and nothing defined Harry like his Magnum. Even Nowhere to Hide's Korean contemporaries seem to embrace gun culture, as movies like Shiri were positively boiling over with high-caliber action. In each of these movies, and in many of the cultures themselves, guns are the first, easiest solution to any problem. Going into a dangerous situation? Go in with your gun drawn. Someone fighting with you? Point your gun at them and shut them up.

Detective Woo in Nowhere to Hide is, by any other measure, the proverbial cop on the edge. The big difference is that he doesn't use a gun. He doesn't even carry one, at least until the very end, and even then he is quite bad with it. Likewise, none of the men working with him use guns. Only one member of his force actually draws a gun during a dangerous situation, and the results are a source of torture for him from that moment on. On the flipside of the coin, none of the criminals use guns either. The main killer uses a sword, and when challenged, his fists. Everyone else, cops and criminals alike, seem to favor pipes and bats if they need a weapon. The distinct lack of guns in the film makes you call into question the entire concept of brutality and just what makes a brutal action film.

Because make no mistake about it, although it's a very twisted and offbeat comedy, Nowhere to Hide is a brutal film. Woo and his men are sadistic, constantly yearning for a fight, and not at all shy about beating confessions out of people. The sight of a cop socking a criminal in the jaw is considered brutal and abusive, thanks primarily to the flesh-on-flesh contact. For some reason, the same cop waving a gun in the face of the same unarmed man wouldn't really faze anyone so long as he didn't actually pull the trigger. So is it the firing of a gun that is brutal, or isn't the mere use of it even as a tool for intimidation, a way to get power over someone without a gun, something brutal as well? Why is the use of a gun so sanitized, so expected, and the use of a fist considered so base and animalistic? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Why is a fist fight savage but the use of a gun not?

Personally, and I'm no pop psychologist, I think we simply relate more to the sight of someone getting pounded like a side of beef being tenderized by an Iron Chef. The threat of a fist in the face is a lot more real to most people than the threat of ever having a gun pulled on them. It's something we all understand more. To put a real-life spin on it, I'm pretty nervous around any physical altercation that involves me, even if it's one I could win (and those are few and far between). The fist fights I've been in have always been a source of great anxiety for me. Conversely, the night Scott and I, along with our friend Todd, had a gun pulled on us, fear never even ran through my mind. It was just like, "Oh hell, let's just get this over with. I have things to do." By all accounts, the chances of someone with a gun killing me are higher than someone beating me to death with their bare hands, but I was a lot less scared looking down the barrel of a gun than I am looking at someone's knuckles flying toward my nose.

Part of that has to do with the remoteness of a gun. Pull the trigger, bam. It's over. It's not like having to duke it out with someone, which is far more intimate, and thus I think, far more personally affecting. It's cold, technical, and removed. I'm sure the gun freaks out there will beg to differ, or perhaps demand to differ, but for me, there's nothing personal about a gun, even the ones snipers use and talk to like they were their intimate lovers. It's still a machine, more or less. There's also, and again this is from the perspective of someone who doesn't care for guns, something less respectable about them. Sure, if someone is shooting at me, I'd probably wish I had one to shoot back, but it takes no special talent to use a gun on someone. Any jackass in Phat jeans can do it. You can be a scrawny, spineless little kid, but you can still pull the trigger and kill someone.

Having to get into a fist fight means you have to rely on yourself, and if you are like me, your ability to get in a few sucker punches and surprises that will end things before you get your ass kicked. You can't fake fighting well. You have to be good at it, or at least better than the person you are fighting. For me, and this is just my personal outlook (I make no condemnation on people who like having a gun around), there is something far more respectable about going at it fist-to-fist. There is something more respectable to me about getting your ass kicked in a fight than there is in winning the fight because you have a gun.

Here in the US, that we have a gun culture goes without saying, though the degree to which we worship the firearm has been put a little more into perspective with our recent glimpses into the average life of someone in, say, Afghanistan. Compared to them, we've still got a long way to go. At least our toddlers have to sneak the guns out of the house. But regardless of that, there's no denying that America and the gun live side by side. They're in our Constitution. They're strapped to our police officers and sometimes even our shopping mall rent-a-cops. More than a few private citizens have them. No matter how many teenagers and computer programmers bring them to school or work to shoot up their peers, cries of outrage are let loose in response to even the mildest form of gun control. When our police force confronts a hostile situation, they do so with guns drawn, primarily because the people opposing them probably have their guns drawn, and despite what those pugilists in the Boxer's Rebellion thought, bare flesh versus hard steel rarely works out to the advantage of the guy with the bare flesh. Case in point: how did the Boxers do?

Nowhere to Hide presents us with a culture that isn't obsessed with guns, and by doing so, even if it was unintentional, it calls into question the differences between the two cultures, something that action films rarely think to do. When confronted with a hostile situation, even one in which they don't know if the other side is armed, the response of the boys in Woo's pack consists of clenching their fists and getting ready for a brawl. The film opens with Woo himself busting a large gang with nothing but his fists to back up his words. Eventually some friends show up, but they all have pipes. No guns. True, it's easier for a police force to operate without relying on guns when the criminals have to do the same, but then, that's all part of living in a culture that has not so enthusiastically embraced the gun as a God given right rather than a reluctant last resort.

Despite all this, Woo is considered violent and out-of-control. His tactics of beating the crap out of people were shocking enough to raise the eyebrows of censors when the movie was recut for the American home video market. For some reason, punching a suspect is considered more violent than shooting at them, or threatening to shoot at them. Sure, I don't want a cop shooting at or punching me, but if I had to chose, even though a punch in the face scares me, I'd probably take it over a bullet to the head.

With this added layer of thought about guns and the nature of violence, about how we become desensitized to the use of a gun because the use of a gun is so impersonal, Nowhere to Hide is suddenly a lot more complex than the otherwise straight-forward plot might have some people believe.

Joong-Hoon Park plays Detective Woo, a squat, brutish looking guy in a leather coat and floppy LL Cool J hat. He reminds me of a less spherical version of the pro wrestler Tazz. Woo is part of a controversial homicide unit where they're willing to beat a confession out of anyone they know is a criminal, even if that person is a teenager or a woman. Still, the only real sidearm Woo carries is a pistol that shoots a relatively useless puff of mace that never seems to stop anyone. When asked by his partner if he wouldn't feel safer with a gun, Woo laughs at the suggestion. He's a fighter, and he'd much rather risk his life in a fist fight than take the coward's way out by pulling a gun. His partner, Kim (Dong-Kun Jang), is younger and less shy about letting a gun get him out of a sticky situation every now and again. Even so, it's rare that he ever uses it, preferring instead to simply let a lead pipe upside the head be his fighting advantage.

When a man is murdered, apparently as part of some sort of underworld power play, Woo and his team are assigned the investigation. Even the assassin, Sungmin (Sung-kee Ahn) doesn't bother with guns. In one of the film's many superb sequences, he hits his mark with a sword during a downpour out on the 40 Steps, a famous landmark in Inchon. His back-up thugs chase away the other guy's thugs again not with guns, but with bats and blades.

A few shakedowns here and there, and a particularly amusing fight between Woo and a big guy named Meathead, lead the cops to Juyon (Ji-Woo Choi), Sungmin's girlfriend. The fight between Woo and Meathead is yet another example of just how different this movie is from most other action films. In nearly any other film, Woo would have pulled a gun on Meathead and said, "Alright, let's get going," and that would have been the end of it, and we wouldn't have thought anything was wrong with that. Instead, Woo refuses to even give a gun a thought, wanting instead to have it out with Meathead and subdue him physically. Again, it's curious that simply pointing a gun at the guy and hauling him in is considered fine, but refusing to use a gun in favor of fighting your opponent unarmed is considered barbaric. You could say that the gun is a way to avoid the violence, and then someone else could counter that by saying that even pointing the gun at someone is a violent act.

Even when the cops are waiting for Sungmin at Juyon's place, none of them use guns. Once again, they all rely on fists and feet. When the fight turns into a chase, the cops could end it simply by pulling out a gun and yelling, "Freeze!" Once again, that wouldn't strike anyone as unusual, even if the criminals were unarmed. They don't do that however, because for them, and for this movie, the gun is not an answer. It's not a short-cut or a way to get work done without effort. The cops would rather run themselves ragged in a foot chase than turn to a gun to solve things for them.

Of course, that could also be part of the reason Sungmin is able to escape. In another moment of humor - and this film is an action-comedy (just not slapstick) - Woo fires his mace gun off wildly, even when Sungmin is nowhere to be seen or is far out of the pistols range of what looks to be about three feet. That thing really is useless, which may or may not be additional imagery pertaining to the movie's attitudes toward our societal reliance on guns.

The one time a gun is used is by Kim, when a crazed man holds a kid hostage using a straight razor. During a moment of confusion, Kim fires and kills the criminal. By all means, it is a justified shot, and most movies wouldn't even think twice about it, except maybe to add some silly one-liner to tie things up nicely. Here, however, the shooting becomes a source of great inner turmoil for Kim, who can't fully convince himself that shooting anyone is a brave or right thing to do. "Never forget this feeling," Woo tells him, showing that for all his willingness to beat someone up, even Woo considers the use of a gun with great gravity. At no point do they condemn it. They merely suggest that one should always remember the consequences and never let the use of a gun become standard practice.

From colorful fall nights to the snowy dead of winter, Woo and his men continue to track the elusive Sungmin, leading to a confrontation on a train (with Woo disguised as a drink vendor looking like Angus Young from AC/DC), and finally a showdown in a rain-drenched construction lot. In the final confrontation of the film, Woo finally resorts to a gun, but it is ultimately useless, and he throws it down into a puddle of mud in favor of settling the score with his fists. The outcome of the final fight is also a twist on what one would expect from this sort of film, but by the final moments, Nowhere to Hide has proven it's anything but just another "this type of film."

The uniqueness of the film's approach to violence and action is matched by its uniqueness in style and appearance. It switches from washed-out, grainy black and white to vibrant, rich, almost overwhelming color. It slams recklessly between slow-motion and regular speed. It toys with lighting, angles, and composition as freely as the script toys with the expectations of a "cop on the edge" story. It is a beautiful film to watch, and the visual flare manages to augment rather than overwhelm. Some people use visual flash as a way to mask weak stories and bad movies. In those moments, the visuals and the effects become the reason for the movie, the center of attention when they should be there to help tell the story instead of covering it up. Though some of the tricks in Nowhere to Hide have no real point, they never overwhelm the story, and they never become annoying. They are simply another layer of what is going on.

As I stated earlier, the plot is simple even if the execution is not. Each of the characters fulfills a genre stereotype, though always with enough of a twist to remind you that this isn't business as usual. Sungmin is easy to dismiss as the cool, brilliant criminal because he dresses smartly, and the villains are always cool and brilliant. The big difference here is that he's neither cool nor especially brilliant, at least not as we actually see him once you strip away expectations you bring in from other movies. His girlfriend is a regular, though quite beautiful, woman in her early thirties living a very simple middle class life despite the fact her boyfriend is an underworld assassin.

Sungmin himself says no more than a few words during the entire picture, and those words are merely an observation of something obvious about a door. He's able to elude the police because he's somewhat careful some of the time, but he still makes the mistake of visiting his girlfriend once her identity is known (and without checking the place out beforehand). His attempts to elude the police on the train are slightly less than genius as well. In fact, in the story presented, there is nothing at all to suggest that Sungmin is brilliant, or even somewhat smart, or that he is a great criminal. These are all expectations we bring in with us, and it's something of a surprise to realize the movie has not played to those expectations. Instead, it's played on them.

By the same token, Woo and Kim are supposed to be the archetypal rogue cops, the kind who ruffle the feathers of the higher ups and always give the mayor a headache. Again, those are character traits we bring into the film with us and which the film quickly subverts. Rather than being angered by the violence, Woo's captain is annoyed that the men can't get more information with it. Despite the fact that they regularly beat up suspects during interrogation, there is never any indication that Woo and his men are ever disciplined from higher up or that anyone looks upon their actions with disgust or moral outrage.

By the book, Woo should be the hothead and his partner should be the by-the-books type. Instead, they're both hotheads, and it's the partner who tends to get careless with the gun. Although he's a bad-ass, Woo is also a human character. Though he loves a good fight, he doesn't always win them. A visit to his sister ends with him donning his new pair of gloves (a gift from the previous year's Christmas that he never opened) and frolicking off into the snowy night like a little kid. We do get the requisite talk about how the lines between cops and criminals are blurred, and how Woo only became a cop to keep himself from becoming a thug, but those are never central themes in the movie since, by comparison, the criminals get next to no screen time.

Despite somewhat broadly drawn characters, the movie manages to personalize Woo and Sungmin's girlfriend, Juyon. Even Sungmin develops a character despite saying almost nothing and only being on screen a few minutes. I guess he's sort of like Boba Fett. Again, it's because we all carry preconceptions of what these characters should be, and the movie allows us to fill them in and mold them slightly to our liking. You could write it off as shallow characterization, but I think it's too effective at drawing you in to be so hastily dismissed. Despite his thuggishness, it's hard not to like Woo. He may hit people, but he won't shoot them. He is never anyone other than who he is, and that's a refreshing honesty. His scenes with Juyon, the world-weary woman who has gotten involved in more than she wants to deal with, lend an air of melancholy to the film. These are, at heart, two very lonely characters who will find no release from their solitude. Sungmin will either be captured or disappear forever. Woo will always spend his evenings on a stake-out or sitting alone at home cooking up some ramen on a camping stove in the middle of his floor.

It helps the characters to have such accomplished actors behind them. Joong-Hoon Park is utterly superb as Woo, managing to drum up fondness for a guy who could be very easy to dislike if handled incorrectly by the actor. Instead, he comes across like a bully big brother who, just as you start to dislike him, does something really meaningful and sweet. Sung-kee Ahn as Sungmin is also accomplished, and by far the most experienced of the main cast. It is the quiet grace and strength with which he carries himself that allows you to fill in his character. That he can leave such an impression with so little time on screen is quite a feat. Ji-woo Choi is simply stunning, but beauty alone will only get you compared to Liv Tyler. As Juyon, she lends the film a sense of "everyman" (or everywoman) humanity and sadness. Dong-kun Jang, who plays Woo's partner Kim, is the least engaging of the main cast, but that's only because his character is the least engaging. He's there primarily to be Woo's sidekick, and although his character is given plenty to think and do, Kim never becomes as moving a figure as Woo or Juyon.

It's nice to see a movie with an older cast, something that a lot of filmmakers have forgotten about. Now, young folks are fine and all, but a fella like me can only take so many films about a guy in his early twenties who is supposed to be some seasoned FBI agent or hardened street cop. It's good to see some people with a couple lines in their faces amid this era of youth worship. No, it's not like we're watching Carl Olsen up there in action, but at least we're not expected to buy some fresh-faced lad of twenty as a grizzled veteran of the homicide department. Even Ji-woo Choi is close to thirty, which makes her positively ancient by Hollywood standards. Well, by all Hollywood standards except the one that allows Meg Ryan to still act like she's nineteen. Weird how in the 1980s, we had all these teens movies starring people in their thirties as teenagers. Now we have all these movies with supposedly older adult characters being played by people barely out of their teens. I fully expect to see a remake of Cocoon starring Aaron Carter, Mandy Moore, the members of O-Town, and in the role formerly occupied by Steve Guttenberg - Steve Guttenberg.

Not that we're entirely devoid of wrinkles here. Sean Connery still catches the eye, as does George Clooney. And that dreamy Robert Redford? He voted for Taft!

Lightening what would otherwise be a grim film is a truly wonderful and twisted dark sense of humor that keeps most of the proceedings feeling like something out of a cartoon. Amazingly, this doesn't really undercut the brutality or effectiveness of the film, which has enough serious moments to balance things out nicely. It's sort of like watching a Walter Hill film along the lines of 48 Hours, where there is plenty of dark comedy, but it is seamlessly blended with more sinister elements that result in a well-balanced film rather than something that veers wildly from one mood to the other without establishing anything. Sometimes the violence is used for humorous effect; sometimes it's deadly serious.

I'm a bit surprised that most critics and viewers are so dismissive of the plot as being non-existent. It's there, and it actually has quite a lot to say, even if it chooses not to do it through dialogue. Perhaps it's just me, and I'm seeing more than was ever meant to be there, but you know how it is. If I see it, then it's there, at least for me. That the movie has chosen to develop both plot and characters in a somewhat unconventional manner seems to get missed, or it simply doesn't work for some people. I thought it was delightful. Despite what you might think, I don't feel engrossed by movies that are nothing but visual flare and pointless action scenes. Though Nowhere to Hide is dripping with visual flare and action, never once did I feel it was the entire point of the film. Like I always say, you get out of a film what you put into it, and most people seem unwilling to look beyond the film's visuals and see anything more. Fine with me. I have no vested interested in convincing people that what they dismiss as nonsense is actually, at least to me, an interesting and subversive plot. In a world where movies have gotten so manipulative and so dumb, people hardly recognize something clever when it comes along. Rather than beat you over the head with it, director Lee Myung-Se allows his film to gather substance along the way, and apparently, it does with a subtlety lost on many viewers. I have no problem being in the minority in thinking that there is a hell of a lot more going on here than just cool visual tricks.

The movie even further subverts expectations by delivering violence that isn't particularly nice to look at. We expect well-choreographed shootout and fight scenes that play out like ballet. Nowhere to Hide gives us sloppy, awkward fist fights that look pretty much like fights do in real life. The movie isn't here to make violence look cool. In fact, it's often striving to make violence look absurd.

Ultimately, it's one of those movies you have to see for yourself and make up your mind about. Is it mindless fluff, violent nonsense, or an actual thoughtful and enjoyable piece of filmmaking? Is it all those things? I thought it was wonderful, but like I said in the opening paragraphs of this review, I'm often easy to please. It's the antithesis of movies by directors like John Woo, who of course, Lee Myung-Se gets compared to a lot by critics who don't know any other names in Asian cinema. Never mind that the movies and directors are nothing alike aside form the frequent use of slow motion. Nowhere to Hide lets you put your own notions into it, and if those notions are that this is all style and no substance, then that's what you'll see. I actually went in knowing very little about the film and director, and had no real preconceptions about what I was about to witness. I think that worked out well for me, because I ended up seeing quite a lot.

On top of that, I flat out enjoyed the film. It's unique in style and substance. It's expertly pieced together, beautiful and ferocious to behold. It's funny, twisted, gritty, and sad. Ten minutes were slashed from the American version of the film, which may be why people seem to miss so much of what's going on in it, so seek out the uncut 112 minute original Korean version. It's bombastic, it's flashy, it's innovative. It has something to say even if people seem not to hear it. But none of that matters much if it isn't an enjoyable film, and I thought Nowhere to Hide was simply fascinating. And hell, even if you think I'm full of it, at least the film is entertaining and cool to look at.

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Wednesday, December 18, 2002

Junk

1999, Japan. Directed by Atsushi Muroga. Available on DVD (HKFlix).

I don't know what happened, but somewhere along the way, people forgot to keep making zombie films. There for a while, they were going strong. George Romero was blowing people's minds with his films, and the Italian were blowing people's minds with graphic scenes of people having their minds blown out. When I was a wee sprout, I went from old Universal horror films directly into zombie films. No other horror category captured my attention the way zombie movies did. There was something overwhelmingly creepy about them. I remember the first time I watched Dawn of the Dead. It was pretty cool while I was watching it, but it wasn't until days later, when it had been tumbling about in my head, that I began to get really creeped out by the whole concept of being caught in a world populated by the dead.

Fear of the dead has always interested me. When if comes right down to it, about the only people you can trust not to harm you are dead folk. It's the living people you really have to watch out for. And weirdly enough, despite turning that notion on its ear and unleashing a swarm of flesh-eating ghouls, even George Romero's films made the point that it's other living people who will do the most damage to you.

In the 1980s, interest in zombie films tapered off. Maybe Day of the Dead had just been too damn grim for people. Maybe they simply wanted to go and have a good time watching teenagers get slaughtered in the fast growing slasher genre. Whatever the case, zombie films slowly faded into the mists, even in Italy. Despite the popularity of recent video games like Resident Evil, few people seem interested in reviving the corpse of the zombie film. Even though companies like Anchor Bay have rekindled interest in discussing the zombie films of old with new releases of films like Let Sleeping Corpses Lie and The Beyond, it hasn't been enough to stop film makers from churning out a billion new teen slasher films or goth rocker vampire movies. Oh please save me from vampire movies! Or at least make one about a blue collar vampire who doesn't wear Renaissance Festival shirts, write poetry, wear long leather overcoats, or any of that other crap. And don't give him a name like Asgoth or Mandrial. Call him Stu or Lenny.

There have been a few here and there, but for the most part the zombie film has gone the way of that joke involving an overweight older man in a little sailor boy outfit with a cute hat and oversized lollipop. You just don't see it too much these days. In recent years it seems the only people with any vested interest in making zombie films are the one bunch of people who didn't really get into the zombie films the first time around: Asians.

As discussed in our review of the Hong Kong film Bio-Zombie, Asian film makers are no strangers to their own particular brand of zombies which, like their vampires, bear little resemblance to their Western counterparts outside of their hatred for the living and the fact that they're dead. In some older Asian films, the zombies are actually far more in line with the zombie traditions from Haiti and other Caribbean nations. The Shaw Brothers produced Revenge of the Zombies stars Lo Lieh who uses the living dead as his own personal slaves and lackeys, controlling them through a variety of magic incantations and potions. This is quite similar to the "real-life" zombie of the islands, which was often a person who returned from the grave in a somnambulistic state only to be used as slave labor by the master. Actual accounts of zombie-ism in Haiti suggest that the "magic" powder used to create a zombie is a concoction that viciously attacks a person's brain, resulting in a comatose, death-like state followed by a "return from the dead" that leaves them without a will of their own.

More times than not, however, the zombie in Asian films was just some dead guy come back full of supernatural kungfu badness, as we see in films like Kungfu Zombie. When most people these days think of "zombie films," they aren't thinking of plantation slaves or White Zombie starring Bela Lugosi. They're thinking of flesh-eating ghouls a la George Romero's Night of the Living Dead. It's his creation that molds modern-day concepts of the zombie far more than actual, traditional accounts. In much the same way that everything we know about vampires comes not from the ancient folklore of Eastern Europe, but instead from Bram Stoker's novel, and in much the same way just about every modern idea about Satan comes not from The Bible or any religious sermon, but from Milton's Paradise Lost, George Romero created the tradition and the mythology all over the moment he had a stumbling ghoul attack Barbara in the cemetery.

Romero-esque zombies never really caught on in Asia, and until recently, the only Asian zombie film that was obviously inspired by the Romero mythos was the Japanese film Emergency: Living Dead in Tokyo Bay, which featured familiar flesh-eating ghouls, but also couldn't resist putting the darling Cutie Suzuki in some super-powered battle-armor and having her go to town sci-fi style. It wasn't until Resident Evil hit video game systems that Asia started dabbling more frequently in zombie territory. Hong Kong gave us the wildly uneven but generally enjoyable Bio-Zombie, and Japan stepped up to the plate again with the delightfully outrageous Junk.

Like Bio-Zombie, Junk isn't a perfect film by any stretch of the imagination. The characters are all pretty annoying and childish, not to mention just plain uninteresting. What the Italians never understood, and what the Chinese and Japanese seem to be failing at as well, is that George Romero's films were so powerful because he gave you a handful of characters for whom you could root. You didn't want to see them die. He also gave you hope that they just might make it somehow, despite the odds. Both Junk and Bio-Zombie feature insipid characters for whom one can't drum up a bit of sympathy. With depth of character out of the way, there's not much left to do but sit back and hope for a wild ride. And this is where Junk delivers and Bio-Zombie tended to falter.

The movie opens with two seemingly unrelated events that you know are going to get related really quick. The first involves a couple scientists doing some sort of experiment on a female corpse. If their goal was to bring it back to life as a blood-thirsty member of the undead, then they should get the Nobel Prize for "Reanimating Bloodthirsty Ghouls." There's a Nobel Prize for that, right? I figure if they give a Nobel Peace Prize to Henry Kissinger for bombing the shit out of Cambodia and giving the green light for the massacre of the Timorese people by Indonesian invasion forces, then they should give at least some small token to mad scientists who reanimate the dead as flesh-hungry maniacs. The woman zombie makes short work of the scientists, then dons a sexy mini skirt, which I did not know was standard equipment for a secret lab. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it is, but while I expect a Jacob's Ladder and plasma ball, a miniskirt was new to me.

Meanwhile, a group of young thieves are in the process of robbing a jewelry store. Each one of them is wearing a shirt that says "Future Zombie Chow" on it, or they might as well be. The robbery goes okay, although one of the guys get scared and shoots some counter help. Not fatally or anything, because while he is bad, he's not a murderer. "The wacky guy" -- you know he is wacky because he wears Hawaiian shirts -- also gets stabbed in the foot during the heist. So, all things considered, I guess it didn't go so well after all. But they got some jewels, so all in all, I guess it was sort of a lukewarm event for all involved. Once again, I have to wonder if any heist in a movie has ever gone according to plan. Seems like everything goes wrong despite the ridiculously complex and foolproof plan the robbers dream up. Just once, I'd like to see a heist film about the stupid people who try to rob banks. When Scott and I lived down in Gainesville, there were two guys who tried to rob a Barnett Bank then make their getaway on BMX bikes. Of course, once the paint bomb went off, the two guys wearing full camo, covered in bright blue paint, furiously peddling away from the bank with dollars trailing behind them made it sort of easy for the cops to nab them.

While those guys are screwing up the heist, a scientist working with the American military realizes something has gone wrong with the secret lab where they were doing all that zombie research. It's a pretty safe bet that it has something to do with zombies. When they try to trigger the self-destruct mechanism that will obliterate the whole lab and everything in it, they find it's been disconnected and can only be triggered from inside the building. So not only are there zombies wandering about, but at least one of them is intelligent.

The lab is hidden inside an old abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. As fate would have it, guess where the gang of bank robbers are supposed to meet the fencer who will buy their stolen goods? It may seem like a mighty big coincidence, but remember that Japan isn't very big. Your chances of meeting your fence in the same building where the US military has a secret zombie making lab are much higher in Japan than they are in larger countries. En route to the rendezvous, we learn the female thief is trying to buy a fancy pants sports car. It may not seem like that big a deal right now, but they keep bringing the damn thing up.

I had initial misgivings about the melding of horror and gangster films. Robert Rodriguez tried it with From Dusk To Dawn, a concept that should have been great but instead just ended up being completely lame. Okay, so there was the Selma Hayak stripper scene, which means the movie wasn't totally lame. Say what you will about Quentin Tarantino; he may be an annoying twerp, but he had the good sense to write a scene for himself where he has to lick Selma Hayak's leg. That's got to count for something. Personally, I'm working diligently on my new film script, The Day Selma Hayak and Suzanna Hoffs Pledged Their Eternal Lust to Me, but so far neither woman has expressed much interest.

From Dusk til Dawn not withstanding, it would seem that a gangster film mixed with horror should be pretty cool, and luckily, Junk actually gets the formula right. The crime film opening is kept short, just there long enough to set up the concept of gangsters versus zombies that will please us for the bulk of the film.

When the crooks try to exchange the goods for cash, the fence and his thugs decide just to kill our wacky bunch of thieves rather than pay them. Again, doesn't this always happen. How many movies have you see where some exchange had to take place? Right, and how many of those exchanges went off without a hitch? Not a damn one. Someone always tries to stab the other person in the back. The two gangs of criminals chase each other around the old factory just long enough for the zombies to get into the mix. Then, as one would expect, all hell breaks loose. Just to make matters more confused, the scientist and a detachment of soldiers all wearing the "zombie chow" t-shirt show up as well to trigger the self-destruct. In a curious turn of events, the guy who choppers the troops in is very adamant about the fact that he can only stay there for a certain length of time. There's really no reason at all for him to do this. It's not like he has anywhere else to go. No one is going to see him. It's a completely arbitrary thing he does just to be a dick. Well, actually, he does it to assure that the helicopter will not be present at the point it's most needed near the end of the film.

The zombies look great, and the gut-munching gore is pretty good. It's not as wild and over the top as what Romero and Fulci did, but it should satisfy just about all gore fans. It's no surprise that the only two criminals who survive the onslaught of the walking dead are the girl and the wacky guy with the aloha shirts. The scientist makes his way to the control room, with just about all the soldiers getting ripped apart by zombies as they wander about, only to come face to face with the intelligent zombie who disconnected the destruct mechanism. We all know it's the girl from the beginning of the film, but what we learn here is that she is also the doc's former girlfriend who was killed in an accident and seems none too pleased to be reanimated as a flesh-hungry ghoul, though to her credit, she has maintained her nice complexion and overall sexiness. Plus, somewhere in the abandoned warehouse, she picked up a nice bob-haircut platinum blonde wig. What the hell kind of lab is this, anyway? Given the apparent abundance of tight-fitting little dresses and wigs, one expects Dr. Frank Furter to come prancing out at any moment.

There's no real explanation for why all the zombies but her are shambling flesh-gobbling morons, but you'll quickly forget about that the minute she busts out with the super-powered zombie kungfu! Hell, they split her in half, and her torso keeps coming. Chop her head off, and the thing will just come shooting after you! It may not make much sense, but there's no denying this is one of the most insane zombie finales ever. In the end, the scientist sacrifices himself to destroy the lab and all the zombies, and the two thieves escape just in the nick of time.

There's nothing overly original about the plot, although the hyperactive super-indestructable sexy zombie lady with kungfu from beyond the grave was a pleasant surprise regardless of how silly it may have been. Junk makes up for it's predictability with tons of wild action and a frantic pace that keeps you happy from beginning to end. The film's major weakness is that you don't really give a damn about any of the characters. After most of her friends have their throats ripped open and turn into zombies, the female thief laments that "Now I'll never get that sports car." I guess it's supposed to be some sort of character development, illustrating the fact that she has dreams and aspirations beyond petty a criminal, but it just makes her seem shallow and annoying. But shallow and annoying is par for the course in this film. None of the characters are there for anything more than the action and gore, and they have more personality than your average Lucio Fulci character. It was very much the same in Bio-Zombie, but unlike that film, this one doesn't take an hour to get going, and when it gets going, it never lets up.

It's best not to examine the plot too carefully lest the basic flimsiness be dragged into the light. The super-powered kungfu zombie, the amazing string of coincidences that result in everyone being at the same zombie-infested factory, and other holes are more than compensated for by the sheer gut-level energy of the film. What it lacks in sophistication or quality writing it makes up for with gore and action. If you're looking for intellectual stimulation, then Junk probably isn't going to be your cup of tea. It's a dumb movie, make no mistake about it. But it's a damn good dumb movie. Sometimes, you can't ask for much more than that. Sometimes, you can ask for more than that, and what they give you is one of those movies about French guys smoking cigarettes and talking about the bleakness of existence. I may have years of formal film studies training under my belt, but no matter how much they try to turn me into one of those high falutin' academic film critics with a great appreciation for avant-garde French films about sad mimes and a young girl's discovery of her own sexuality, at the end of the day I'd rather just watch me some pro rasslin' and some wild Japanese zombies. You can call me low-brow, but you can also call me happy. You're watching French guys and I'm watching a cute super-powered zombie chick kungfu the shit out of people.

Like I said, Junk isn't a perfect film, but it's a lot of fun, and given the rarity of zombie films these days, I'll take what I can get. It's very much in the spirit of the Italian zombie films inspired by George Romero's films. It lacks the social commentary and character development of Romero's films, and like it's Italian predecessors, features paper-thin characters that are forgettable zombie fodder at best and irksome twerps at their worst. However, like the Italian films, it's easy to overlook the lack of any real characters when the action is this delirious and non-stop. If you're in search of a simple-minded, gory good time full of flesh-eating ghouls, then Junk is the perfect way to get what you're looking for.

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Thursday, August 30, 2001

Shiri

1999, South Korea. Starring Suk-kyu Han, Min-sik Choi, Yoon-jin Kim, Kang-ho Song, Derek Kim. Directed by Je-kyu Kang. Buy it on Amazon.

It's been damn hard to like action films for the past five or six years. Back in the 1970s, America and Italy were cranking out action films the likes of which had never been seen before and would never be seen again. These were incredible films full of grim characters and gritty violence. When the 1980s rolled around, America dropped out of the picture, trading in the streetwise toughness of the 1970s for overblown blockbusters that were big on noise and and little on any real action or intensity. That trend continues to this day with a few notable exceptions.

But that was okay. While America force-fed itself a steady diet of Rambo and Steven Segal, dedicated action fans needed only to turn to Hong Kong, where the whole concept of action films was being reinvented by guys like Tsui Hark, John Woo, Sammo Hung, and plenty of others. What America had lost -- that human quality, the thrill that comes from seeing people instead of special effects at the forefront of the action -- Hong Kong now offered up in spades. And much like Italian and American films of the decade before, Hong Kong films during the 1980s were unique and will probably never be matched again.

Enter the 1990s. For various reasons, the Hong Kong film industry started to collapse. As older stars found themselves unable to perform the wild stunts the fans demanded of them and newer stars refused to undergo the horrific training required to pull off the stunts of yesteryear, action films faltered. Like American films, they began to focus less on the human aspect of a stunt and more on the technical aspect, things like big explosions and jumpy editing. Where many of the films had once relied on the style of breakneck martial arts action pioneered by Sammo Hung, Yuen Biao, and Jackie Chan, the new crop of stars didn't have the dedication or the backgrounds to pull it off. A lot of the older stars, like Jet Li and Michelle Yeoh, suffered pretty harsh injuries as well, meaning that by the middle of the 1990s it was getting pretty hard to find a martial arts action film that didn't relying heavily on wires, camera tricks, and undercranking. Rather than covering up for the weaknesses of the stars, with few exceptions it only reminded people of how lame the new bunch was turning out.

Interest in Hong Kong action films waned, and action fans soon found themselves lost once again. Sure, over in Japan Takeshi Kitano was revolutionizing the genre and doing things unlike anyone had done before him (or, of course, would ever do again), but one man could hardly support the genre for the entire world. It seemed that the well, for the most part, had run dry. Oh yeah, some people were swearing up and down that the latest crop of Bollywood actioners from India were real ass-kickers in the spirit of early John Woo action films. This claim never really held up to inspection, though. Perhaps it was simply time to go into hibernation, or spend time acquainting oneself with the impressive back catalog of worthy action films the world has to offer.

The along came Korea.

The Korean film industry has yet to get the attention that the cinema of China, Hong Kong, and Japan received overseas. An arthouse film would pop up every few years, but for the most part, even your above-average film fan in the United States knew little about Korean pop cinema. It just didn't have the trendy ring of other Asian countries. But a cursory look at where Korea stands right now will show that's in very much the same situation Italy, the United States, and Hong Kong were in when they were at the top of their game.

Both Italy and the US hit their action film stride in the early-mid 1970s. for the United States, it was a period when the Vietnam War was still raging, the country was trying to hold itself together, and everyone on either side of the fight just felt disillusioned and exhausted. In Italy, it was the Arab-Israeli war and the dramatic rise in terrorist activity and crime that tore the country to shreds. Out of these boiling cauldrons of chaos emerged some of the greatest, grittiest films of all time. Intense times breed intense films. In the 1980s, Hong Kong was really coming into its own as a force to be reckoned with, and at the same time realized that the 1997 hand-over date at which time they would rejoin the Communist mainland was no so far off as it once was. Mix that anxiety in with an explosion in the power of triad gangs, and all of a sudden you have an island full of nervous, uncertain people. That fear and uncertainty got channeled in many ways into energetic films and artistic expression. If nothing else, directors were betting they might not have has much freedom come 1997 so they better pull out all the stops before then. The results were, of course, amazing.

When 1997 rolled around and turned out to not be that big a deal, the industry found itself spent. Gangsters had bled it dry behind the scenes, VCD bootleggers had demolished the box office returns, and most of the old stars were retiring, seeking their fortunes elsewhere, or simply couldn't perform like they used to. Hong Kong settled back into a period of relative stability and complacency, and the raw intensity of the films from the 1980s was lost.

And now we have Korea. I'm going to assume that no one needs me to give them a lesson on the past and current state of Korea. The United States fought a little war over there we creatively call the Korean War. You can watch MASH for the low-down on that. The war was historic for many reasons, not the least of which being that America, still high off their big World War II win, was in for a rude awakening pertaining to our military might. The United States has never been successful with wars in Asia. The Japanese ran circles around us and just would not give up during World War II. The ground battles in the Pacific were some of the most intense and bloody American troops have ever fought -- my grandfather's ear will attest to that if you can find it. He left it back in Guadalcanal somewhere. Eventually, we just had to drop a couple atom bombs on Japan to get them to surrender.

Korea didn't go much better (and I won't even bring up Vietnam and Cambodia). When the country went into civil war, the United States immediately jumped to the aide of the democratic South. What we didn't count on was the Chinese leaping to the defense of the communist North. The war raged for years and never amounted to anything more than a stalemate. Eventually, everyone just got tired and signed a cease fire agreement. The war was never actually declared over. Officially, it's still going on today.

Like just about every communist country started finding out in the 1990's, there are some basic problems with a government that is totalitarian and isolationist. Communist North Korea simply started running out of money, then they were not so simply hit with a number of bombshells. Crop failure and severe flooding resulted in mass starvation. Just about every communist country in Asia began moving toward an open market economy. Where North Korea could previously rely on China and Russia for aide, that aide was gone as those countries found themselves with their own load of problems. Both leaders in the communist world began making overtures toward the formerly evil democracies of the West. Before North Korea knew it, Russia dropped Communism and China started to (but just couldn't let go of that whole torturing of political dissidents thing). Kampuchea changed its name back to Cambodia and overthrew the Khmer Rouge. Vietnam loosened the grip somewhat and started marketing itself as a great spot for vacations. Korea's communist allies were suddenly few and far between.

There was no way an impoverished, isolated country like North Korea could deal with the natural disasters that crippled its economy and crushed the people. They had to look for help, and the only places that were doing well were the United States, Japan, and South Korea. Maybe it was time to resume talks with their brothers and sisters from the South.

The notion of a reunification of the two countries has been kicked around a lot in recent years. It worked for Germany. But then, it's still a wildly complicated situation. Decades of separation require years and years of work before reunification can ever be a viable, lasting solution. The countries started down that road when North Korea simply stood up and said it needed help. Japan, South Korea, and the United States obliged. If the bitterest of enemies (there is no love loss between many Koreans and Japanese) could put aside differences to help people in need, then maybe healing the wounds wasn't such a crazy idea after all. Talks began, and just like in Italy, The United States, and Hong Kong, feelings of hope, fear, anxiety, and confusion emerged.

It's from these tense but hopeful times that Shiri draws its power. It draws its title from a fish that is native to the waters around the demilitarized zone between the two countries. The symbolism is not lost on the viewer, and in fact fish play a major role as symbols in this film.

Shiri opens with no holds barred, as a group of North Korean special operatives train under merciless conditions that include practicing your killing on (temporarily) live prisoners. The intro is alternately beautiful and grotesque. It holds nothing back when it comes to gore and bloodshed. In fact, as a whole Shiri is one of the goriest action films I've seen in quite a long time, right up there alongside War Dogs and the violent outbursts in a Takeshi Kitano film. At the same time, while people are being gored on bayonets and flayed alive, the entire thing is shot beautifully, set primarily at night in the rain with lighting and angles that remind me a lot of the rainy night fights from Tsui Hark's The Blade.

The star member of the team is a woman named Lee Bang-Hee. She kicks ass at everything, but shines as a marksman and sniper above all else. Choi Min-Sik stars as the leader of the group, a dedicated soldier named Park Mu-young. The grueling training sequence ends with the group seemingly hatching some sort of plot. Lee Bang-Hee then departs to carry out some mysterious task.

Skip ahead several years and a little further south, where we meet two star members of South Korea's special anti-terrorist police force, Ryu (Han Suk-Kyu) and Lee (Song Kang-Ho). The two of them have spent the bulk of the past couple years attempting to thwart the plots of the North Korean terrorists lead by Lee Bang-Hee and Park. Bang-Hee seems at least to have disappeared in the past year and stopped assassinating people. Well, that doesn't last long, as the story picks up as she comes out of retirement to play a major role in what is apparently going to be a major scheme. A film about an assassin who doesn't kill anyone wouldn't be very interesting.

Lee and Ryu realize that she's come out retirement when they attempt to meet with an arms dealer who wants to give them information about something she and her North Korean cohorts attempted to purchase from him. Unfortunately, he winds up dead before he can say much of anything. Lee and Ryu know now that Bang-Hee is back, she's trying to buy something serious, and that's about it. On top of all that, Ryu is struggling to build a life with his girlfriend Hee (Kim Yoon-Jin), a recovering alcoholic who runs a fish store. The fish symbol is played out again as she gives him a pair of kissing fish, explaining that if one dies, the other will die shortly thereafter of loneliness.

Ryu and Lee eventually figure out that the terrorists are going to try and steal a new type of liquid explosive that is far more powerful than plastique or any other sort of bomb. When they realize they are constantly being thwarted and outsmarted in ways that are impossible, it becomes evident that there's one more problem to deal with: someone in the office is a spy. Ryu and Lee suspect their own boss at first, and eventually turn their suspicions on each other. Meanwhile, Park leads the rest of the squadron over the border into South Korea and sets up the plot to steal the liquid explosive.

Despite all their careful planning, Ryu and the special forces are dealt a serious blow when the terrorists successfully hijack a convoy transporting the explosive. Ryu convinces himself that his partner and best friend Lee is indeed the spy, while Lee has come to the same conclusion about Ryu. Park begins threatening to blow up a variety of important spots throughout Seoul, promising that he will even tell the cops where the bombs are -- making sure to do so that no matter how fast they move, the cops won't be able to diffuse the bombs before they go off. The first explodes in a huge shopping mall -- a little strike against capitalism, there. Ryu knows that as long as someone is leaking information to Park's group, there's no chance the special ops unit will be able to capture them. He devises a plan that will trap, he hopes, both the rat and sniper Lee Bang-Hee.

It's necessary from here on out to be a bit vague about the particulars of the plot. I firmly believe that a great film cannot be ruined by knowing the end, and that you can't spoil something if it's effective, but I'll defer to common courtesy and keep a number of things secret. The trap almost works, but winds up leading to a huge shootout between the special forces and the terrorists. The action in Shiri is intense. Most of it is shot at a frantic pace with lots of movement, as if the camera was a member of the special ops team. And as we already said, the shootout are incredibly bloody. When people get ripped apart by automatic rifle fire at close range, they get ripped apart.

The best thing about the action isn't how much of it there is or how wild it is; it's how real most of it is. After years of watching John Woo and his many imitators send people sailing through the air in slow motion with two guns blazing while they cross their arms so they can, for some inexplicable reason, shoot left with their right hand and right with their left, it was good to see a film that handles most of its gunplay as if actual guns were being used. No sideways guns, no double-fisted guns. When they shoot, they hold the gun with one hand and steady it underneath with the other -- gee, the way guns are actually supposed to be fired so you can aim and shoot without shattering your wrist bones. Stylish, outlandish violence and gunplay is fine, but it's also nice to see a film that finally pays a little attention to detail and realism. In fact, among the many awards Shiri received in South Korea was one from the actual special forces unit. It was for realism in depicting the use of weapons and the way in which the team operates.

Ryu and Lee figure out that the bombings are little more than a red herring. The big target is a packed stadium during a soccer match. As part of the process of reunification, the leaders of North and South Korea decided to have their two teams play one another before uniting to play against teams from the rest of the world. It may seem like blowing up a soccer game isn't that great, but remember that the game is packed -- including the presidents of both countries -- and sports have actually played a major role in diplomacy in the past. I'm not a big organized sports fan, but only a fool would fail to see what an impact they've had on politics. The best example is the relations between China and The United States. Richard Nixon gets lots of credit for being the man who opened up dialogs with Communist China and began creating bridges between that country and the US, but the real pioneers were actually members of an American ping pong team.

Ping pong is serious business in China. If you've ever watched their Olympic ping pong team, you know this is an entirely different level of play then what you see in rec rooms across America. In 1971, the U.S. Table Tennis Team paid a diplomatic call to China for a friendly game of ping pong. The photo of a shabby, goofball looking hippy member of the American team surrounded by giggling Chinese kids is a famous picture. So famous and effective was the visit that the entire process of creating ties with China became known as "ping pong diplomacy."

A few years ago, a similar event happened when American Greco-Roman wrestlers traveled to Iran for a bout with the national team of our long-time enemy. Just as The US saw China's border dispute with the Soviet Union as a way to get in good with China, so too did we see Iran's constant battle with neighbor