The first Korean movie released in the American market, 301/302 is an interesting starting point for Korean film. Since Akira Kurosawa opened the West to Japanese film, one would think that the great Korean director, IM Kwon-Taek would be the one to introduce us to Korean film, but for some reason that has not been the case. Some say it's because of Im's melodramatic style, but what are US soap operas but melodramatic? Others say that Im's themes are too Korean specific. Although I find universal themes throughout Mandala, Sibaji (Surrogate Mother), and Sopyonji, it is true that a knowledge of Korean history and culture are helpful in integrating the films.
So instead of IM Kwon-Taek leading the maiden voyage of Korean film into American theater waters, it is PARK Chul-Soo. The probable reason we are able to find 301/302 in the Foreign section of Blockbuster Video or Hollywood Video, besides the movie's quality, may be because of the greatest of cultural mediators, FOOD. Food is used throughout this film, as scenery, as a tool to move the plot along, and as metaphor. Although there are steaming pots of bul go gi (barbecued beef) and oh jing ah jigae (octopus stew) that will make your mouth water, don't expect to be hungry for too long. It all comes up right back at you.
Let me explain. 301/302 is of the suspense/mystery genre. The title refers to the two apartments across from which our main characters live. We first meet Miss Song-Hee (EUN Jin Pang) as she is looking to purchase the apartment across from KIM Yoon-Hee (SHIN Hye Hwang). For the sake of those who have difficulty with Korean names, Miss Song-Hee does NOT wear glasses whereas KIM Yoon-Hee DOES wear glasses. Miss Song-Hee has brought her interior decorator along with her to set the apartment up to her standards. Martha Stewart would kill for this kitchen. Everything from the cutlery to the tableware to the kitchen table is designed for a gifted chef who oversees a large restaurant when Miss Song-Hee only cooks for one. In this kitchen, each opening of a large metal refrigerator door or drawer full of canned and dry goods, each slice and chop of vegetables and meat, each bo gul, bo gul (a Korean onomatopoeia for bubbling) of stew or soup is dialogue on its own.
Across the hall from Miss Song-Hee lives struggling writer KIM Yoon-Hee. Unable to publish the writings about which she is most passionate, she must settle to sustain herself financially by writing the sex column of a Korean women's magazine. Miss Song-Hee wishes to be neighborly and continues to offer food to Yoon-Hee who is reluctant to take it. Miss Song-Hee takes offence to this, to the point of revenge, eventually stuffing food into Yoon-Hee's face.
In the middle of doorbell ring after doorbell ring, the characters are further developed through flashbacks. We learn Yoon-Hee is a survivor of sexual abuse and that Miss Song-Hee had an unhappy marriage. This is what places Yoon-Hee's comments, such as "My body's so full of dirty things" or "How can I stuff food or men into my body?", or Miss Song-Hee's comments, such as "Sex isn't disgusting, Love is" or "I had to substitute food for love," into context.
Miss Song-Hee was the "perfect" wife to her husband, cooking and sexing all the time, of which her husband eventually gets tired. After refusing several of her sexual advances, Miss Song-Hee turns to food and gains a great deal of weight. Her husband continues to act out by engaging in an affair. The divorce is what led Miss Song-Hee to her new apartment, where she places herself on a strict diet and exercise regiment that returns her to her body size prior to the marriage.
Yoon-Hee was the obedient daughter who did not tell of the sexual abuse by her butcher father (or stepfather, we're never really told). The blood on the money her mother counts represents the unspoken pact her mother appears to have made with the butcher. The scenes of a young Yoon-Hee are powerfully, thus disturbingly, done.
Learning of Yoon-Hee's abuse, Miss Song-Hee states that "From now on, I'll only make tender foods" in hopes of helping Yoon-Hee keep her food down. Still this doesn't help. Several bodily refusals of the food are shown to us in all their fluid glory. This is why you won't leave the theater hungry. One of the most powerful aspects of the film is the push and pull you feel surrounding the food. You constantly find yourself going from one extreme to the other, from want to disgust, from 'Yum, that looks sooo good,' to 'Oh my God, I think I'm going to hurl!' PARK does a great job of playing with our desires.
In order to organize the plot of the film, I have to mess with the time structure of the film. Past, Present and Future are muddled within the actual movie. Quickly within the film a detective emerges to investigate the disappearance of KIM Yoon-Hee. We are slowly led to find out why in fact she "disappeared." As Yoon-Hee's character herself said, "My body refuses [food]. Not just food but everything this world has to offer." Eventually, she chose away out of this world.
Park's intention with this film, along with using funky point of view techniques such as the peephole view of characters outside the doors of the apartments, is apparently to address many issues facing women in Korean society. Miss Song-Hee went along with expectations of her as the dutiful wife and this did not lead her towards the fulfillment she desired. KIM Yoon-Hee remained silent about her abuse and each attempt to raise her voice received a "Thank You for your submission, however . . ." letter. The only literary voice she's permitted is of a sexual nature of the Cosmopolitan 'How To Please Your Man' variety rather than the Jane 'How To Please Your Self' variety. Miss Song-Hee can be seen as representing a new Korean woman who is challenging the roles set upon her, while KIM Yoon-Hee can be seen as a representation of Korean womanhood that is slowly dying away. Of course, these are generalizations and the changes in Korean society for woman are more complex than this. But, to Park's credit, he is one of the first to engage in a discussion of the changing roles of Korean women within such a popular medium. Thankfully, Korean women themselves are gradually being provided more opportunities to write scripts and direct their own films. A Korean-American friend of mine has noted that Korean serial dramas have been including more and more women writers as of late and has definitely effected the serials for the better. (Thanks, Janet).
Some who are knowledgeable of old school Korean prejudices towards the butcher class, (similar to Japan where they are seen as "unclean"), may find Park to be contributing to stereotypes here by portraying Yoon-Hee's parents as evil. Korean men are not too kindly represented here as well. And some may see Miss Song-Hee's portrayal as cliched. But overall, I have found 301/302 to be a pleasure to watch because of the direction, the psychological suspense created, and the wonderful acting by EUN Jin Pang and SHIN Hye Hwang. If you are not a fan of disturbing plots, I would advise you to watch something else. But for those of you who don't mind some blood and death, you will get the added extra of cultural commentary.
PARK Chul-Soo's other two movies have yet to be released in the U.S. San bu een gwa (Gynecology) and gu yug shi neh ma (Family Cinema) are only available at Korean Video Stores. [These poor romanizatons are my own since I haven't seen romanized versions in print. I know they are incorrect romanizations; I am not a Korean scholar, but I wanted to give the Epinions community an idea of how to pronounce the Korean titles.] This means I could only obtain an un-translated copy. Being that my Korean is limited to phrases like "I enjoyed it," "Do you have any newspapers?", "That's delicious!", "More kim chee, please," and "I love you," I'm only able to provide a review of the movie based on a non-translated viewing and on what I remember from when I saw at an Asian/Asian-American Film Festival in San Francisco. It was translated at the festival but my fluent in Korean friend said the translation was horrible. However, appreciating Korean film so much and being able to pick up important parts with a past and present viewing, I still felt I could add this to the review here and have it be beneficial. Perhaps I can throw a pebble in the water here and cause enough rippling to get more Korean films translated for greater U.S. exposure. We all have our dreams.
My first few attempts to locate Gynecology were difficult because I was calling it "Push-Push," which was how the title was translated at the festival. The owner of my Korean Video Store didn't know what I meant by "Push-Push," nor did the waitress at the Korean restaurant I went to afterwards with Epinions' kifwebe, by the way. I had to lay out my rented tape of Family Cinema so the young hip Korean speaking Korean-Americans at the table next to me were enticed to ask what a white boy was doing with that movie. This allowed me a nice segue to ask them what "Push-Push" was really called. They said Gynecology. I would later learn from watching the title sequence that the video translates it as "St. OBGYN," which I guess is a play off of "St. Elsewhere" but I really don't know. I had a really hard time locating this particular movie because of this translation problem. From here on out, I will refer to it as Gynecology since once I started calling it that, Koreans nodded their heads in acknowledgement.
Gynecology takes place, as one may guess, at an OBGYN hospital. Some women come into the hospital while in labor while others appear to sleep there in anticipation of their expected due dates. The two women we met in 301/302 are the main characters of this film as well. SHIN Hye Hwang (the one with glasses again) and EUN Jin Pang (the one without glasses again) are characters who went to medical school together and have since set up practices across the hall from one another at this hospital, just like their apartments in 301/302.
Gynecology is a montage of genres and subplots. It is part comedy, part drama, and even part documentary. The latter genre is the most interesting facet of the movie. In between dialogue, we are interrupted with a real NOVA-like clip of actual births, vaginal and Cesarean. This irked many in the audience with whom I initially saw this movie. We see dilated vaginas as the child's head protrudes and we see the cutting and forcepping of skin and fat to remove the child through a Cesarean. We are not used to such blunt reality in America. We tend to hide this stuff. I speak of this documentary footage as "interrupting," but it isn't really. Reality is kept as a center throughout the film's caricatures. The music accompanying the documentary aspects of the film is cosmic-themed, appearing to tell us, 'Look, this is real. Yes, this is a movie, but keep yourself centered on the wonders of it all.'
Even more disturbing to some is the point of view Park utilizes occasionally. In the spirit of David Letterman, I will call it a vagina-cam. Yep. During some pelvic exams we are given a view from within the body, opening up to see Dr. Glasses or Dr. Non-Glasses looking in. Perhaps this is to remind us of our bodies, challenging those of us who might wish to distance ourselves from the characters on the screen. Or it could be Park using one too many parlor tricks from his film school sleeve. This point of view does seem more like something one would find in a Trey Parker and Matt Stone movie, ala South Park.
The montage of subplots creates a cacophony that can be just as upsetting as the vagina-cam. Patients are brought in and out like a TV drama, too many to easily attach oneself to any character in particular. A woman who records every moment of her childbirth, describing it as the most beautiful experience one could ever have, labors in a room with a woman who pummels her husband for putting her through the most excruciating pain she has ever experienced. A woman seeking an abortion is subjected to the surreal, philosophical ramblings of multiple members of Korean society. A pregnant Korean's young age is hinted at by her having to bow first to everyone she encounters, the little sister to everyone, big sister to no one. Later we learn she is giving up her child for adoption, showing us a perspective of Korean International adoptions we don't often see in this country.
One theme recurs throughout, however. And this is the eternal Korean pursuit of a male child. The first family we meet in Gynecology is one who already has three girls, all of whom are singing outside the room where their mother is delivering. We are shown the genitalia of the child revealing her girlness to us reminiscent of an older Korean tradition of spread-legging naked pictures of ones first born son. We are then shown a distraught Grandmother, father and mother. The disappointment in producing a girl child recurs and recurs throughout the film. The janitor and other older Korean women espouse potions and tricks to procuring a boy child. SHIN Hye Hwang (Glasses) appears particularly affected by the passion with which a male is sought because she herself appears unable to bear children. It is not that she would settle for any child, even a girl child. It is that she is aware from her position that one is neither better than the other. Boy or Girl, they are simply children, a joy to hold. PARK Chul-Soo has chosen to show how the birthing hospital is a microcosm of Korean society, exposing the realities (the documentary footage) and myths (the means to obtain a male heir) that still hold sway regardless of those one chooses to ignore.
SHIN Hye Hwang (Glasses) and EUN Jin Pang (No Glasses) are again set up as binaries. Eun is the image of successful motherhood, having many children, including sons, whereas Shin has been unable to conceive so far. Shin begins to doubt her self even more after the death of one of her patients. Although Eun comforts her after this incident, when the credits role, dialogue my friend said was particularly NOT translated well because of the difficulty translating Korean's use of honorifics (hierarchy markers), Eun refers to Shin as one of lower status. We are shown that, deep down, even Eun holds contempt for Shin's infertility.
Even more explicitly than in 301/302, we have an exploration of the roles of women in Korea. Although the multiple subplots are confusing, perhaps they are presented to us at the pace of the real world where we cannot process all we're witnessing with much thorough analysis. This interpretation is underscored by the documentary intrusions of the reality of childbirth, which is messy, frightening, disgusting, beautiful, exciting, renewing, personal, and political, all at the same time.
The titling of PARK Chul-Soo's third film creates confusion again. Although titled in the Korean Video Store as gu yug shi neh ma, my Korean friends called it ga jok shi neh ma, which means "Family" (ga jok) "Cinema" (shi neh ma). If they still have the poster up in your local Korean Video Store, just point to the one with five family members sitting in a row in a sauna with the water up to their necks, an image not shown in the film. In the actual film we see the family in the sauna from the side being photographed for this movie poster.
Letting go of his more obvious point of view parlor tricks, Park appears to have created a very intriguing movie here. This film has yet to hit the festival circuit so I have only seen this once, and I've seen it un-translated. So my comments are based only on what I've been told by Korean friends (Thanks, Sun-Ha) and what I can infer from the action on the screen. My comments concerning Family Cinema then, will be briefer.
This Korean film is entirely in Japanese with Korean subtitles cluttering up the bottom of the screen. The movie follows the life of a Korean family in Japan, the mom, the dad, the two daughters (Yoko and Matomi) and the one son (Kajugi). Koreans in Japan are known as Zainichi which is short for zainichi kan kokujin (literally, "in Japan Korean"). Zainichi are neither Japanese nor Korean. They are in political limbo. (Thanks, Bruce.) Personally, this is why this movie is so fascinating to me and why I would love to see it translated eventually. I have been curious to see how other countries deal with multiculturalism within their own borders, from the perspective of the majority and minorities.
A Truman Show/Ed TV post-modernism is quite evident in Family Cinema. [This film came out around the same time as those two movies so claiming PARK Chul-Soo is copying these two films is not really accurate. Plus, the book it is based on was produced well before those two American films were made.] Early on we find a movie crew following this Zainichi family's escapades. However, rather than trying to catch the "real" family, the director intervenes from time to time asking that they refer to an actual script.
I am so intrigued by what I saw that I would consider offering money to someone to translate this film for me. The movie appears to be making a great many statements about Koreans in Japan that I would love to have access to. What I create within my linguistic limitations is a movie about Zainichi feeling as if the camera of Japanese society is on them all the time, directing them into certain roles and behaviors. The final cinematic, orchestrated torment of climate by the film crew appears to hint at the stress placed on many minorities by the sets created by the majority. I just HAVE to know more about what's going on in this film.
301/302, Gynecology, and Family Cinema each address controversial topics in controversial ways. PARK Chul-Soo has obviously chosen projects that will force cultural issues into mainstream Korea. For this, I commend him. American audiences could learn a great deal from these films by seeing themselves in many of the characters. Many of us feel like we're on camera as is demonstrated in Family Cinema, or that our life is rushing by without much time for contemplation like in Gynecology, or that we're up against roles imposed on ourselves or the people and things around us that we don't necessarily agree with like in 301/302. At the same time, we can learn from an experience that is still different. Sadly, the market limits that are presumed by Hollywood have resulted in keeping these films from the overwhelming majority of Americans who don't know Korean, or in the case of the Family Cinema, Japanese either. It took a long time for John Woo, Tsui Hark, Chow Yun Fat and Beat Takeshi to be appreciated in the US. Let's hope we don't have to wait much longer for more of PARK Chul-Soo, EUN Jin Pang, SHIN Hye Hwang and the other Korean directors, actresses and actors who have much to teach us.
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