The Rise of Korean Film Superiority

In one of my favorite T.V. cartoons, “The Critic”, Jay Sherman sings "I love French films, pretentious, boring French Films. I love French films, two tickets s'il vous plaît!" That was 1994 and Jay Sherman was taking his middle-school aged son and his Cuban girlfriend to the movies. Sherman was a film critic who hated almost every movie he saw, basically only considering foreign movies worth ratings other than "it stinks!"

I connect with Sherman in this regard. In many cases, I would much rather watch a good foreign movie over a good American movie. This isn't to say that simply because the movie touches American hands that it possesses diminished quality, but instead that American film motifs are familiar, overused and boring. Name one recent American movie that doesn't have love somewhere...anywhere...in the whole film. Even the refreshing originals, like Inception, fall back to some of these overused themes.

Among all the world film industries, Korea stands alone as understanding the balance between art and excitement: French movies are very artistic, much like slowly walking through a museum – and American movies are exciting, like riding a rollercoaster. But like a museum trying to make a “fun exhibit!” or a theme park displaying local art, the movie just comes off as all wrong. There are some gems worth the time and money of viewers, but unfortunately the vast majority of American cinema is starting to rot to the point of inedibility.

But before we start, we should get the obvious out of the way. Most (perhaps all) Korean movies that make it to American DVD have already proven wildly successful in their home country, or the movies received sparkling reviews at international film festivals. Deciding to add English subtitles and ship them over here appears to be an afterthought – should the movie be good enough, Korean movie executives decide to ship it over. Contrast that with American movies in an American market; we see movies that have been unfiltered by previous audiences. If we lived in another country and only the top 10 grossing American movies received time in our home theater, we would probably also operate on the assumption that Americans only make quality movies. It is also an interesting fact that Korea is one of the only countries in the open-market world where domestic movies control more market than American movies.

With that out of the way, we can proceed with the list. But it is worth keeping in mind that the market filters the good/bad movies, which is partially the reason why foreign movies that appear in American theaters are usually of high quality and worthwhile reviews (at the time of writing, RottenTomatoes has only 3 movies out of 10 with a total rating above 71%. Granted, RottenTomatoes’ system considers movies “Fresh” if 6 out of 10 critics recommend it, but that simple majority may reflect diminished expectations).

1) Less Reliance on New Technology.

It’s great that America leads the world in movie technology. I can still be awed by what computers can do in movies. But I believe that the technology has also made movies more complacent. A very fair criticism can be made that the major reason the prequel Star Wars movies were so bad was George Lucas' technology fetish. He sacrificed the humanity of the movies, making them less emotional and staler (this argument is also made by Red Letter Media's awesome movie reviews, watchable here). We can also see this in the original Paranormal Activity when compared with My Soul To Take. Since Paranormal Activity couldn't afford fancy computer effects, the movie built fear and tension in a more human way. Instead of chasing people with axes, perhaps to the point of comedy, Katie would spend hours standing by the bed of her boyfriend Micah, watching him as he slept. The director said that he wanted to use the vulnerability of our sleep to scare audiences -- and it worked amazingly well. The Nightmare on Elm Street remake was essentially the same theme -- horror from the vulnerability of sleep -- but executed in a stale way. Now with a bigger budget, I'm scared Paranormal Activity 2 will use technology to turn the franchise into Nightmare on Elm Street. At present time, I have yet to see the sequel.

Korean movies rarely possess the same amount of technology or budgetary freedom and so they rely on the niches of artistic means coupled with character nuances. If Korean movies need an actor tense, the director uses the actor to show the tension. Contrast this with many American movies that use music and jerky camera angles to convey the same idea. And this applies to nearly every movie emotion: love, fear, excitement, tension, regret. Korean movies attempt the emotional rollercoaster humanly.

Paranormal Activity on Amazon

2) New Takes on Hollywood Motifs.

Hollywood has overused their themes and motifs to the point of nausea. Any sports movie will essentially follow this story arch: the person/team is currently struggling, tries something new and imaginative, fails at first, but they stick with it and eventually see it pay off. We can apply it to Major League, The Replacements, The Mighty Ducks franchise, Miracle, The Longest Yard. There are a few exceptions -- perhaps they stick with it and they lose, but the protagonists learned a valuable lesson on the way and probably rediscovered love or their passion for the sport. This is what we expect from sports movies and what we get.

Korea also makes sports movies! But they usually add enough twists or changes to ignite the drama and actually make you care about what you're watching. In Forever The Moment, the filmmakers took a gamble -- make a sport movie involving a sport that nobody watches or cares about (Olympic Handball) -- then another gamble by making it the women's team. They show the story of the Olympic team members working in grocery stores, unknown to anyone since nobody watches the sport. The team trains hard, fights with each other and has the general expected conflicts of working on a team going through several coaching crises. And while the movie does abuse some annoying sports clichés (the star player quitting then coming back at the last moment), the characters are interesting enough to keep us engaged. Then when the team loses, we aren't depressed because of failure -- instead we are depressed because we saw the dreams of the individuals thrashed. We care less about the sport than we do about the success of the women.

In Superstar Mr. Gam, the protagonist is a factory worker dreaming of playing for the professional Korean baseball league. He tries out and makes it mostly because he throws so slowly that nobody can hit his ball. He’s a benchwarmer the whole season – an unremarkable player that is confused for a fan when a superstar pitcher sees him holding a baseball. And when Mr. Gam is finally given a chance to pitch in a crucial game, he loses. But we like him enough anyways that victory or defeat, it doesn’t matter which, he is still respected by the audience.

Forever the Moment -- part of a box set

3) Diverse Settings.

Movies taking place in the far off past seem to be out of style. I'm not too sure why, but if the setting isn't World War II, there don't seem to be many historical movies. But it's important to remember that historical movies can be extremely enjoyable (Braveheart and Gladiator for example). It is my assumption that Hollywood feels that if the setting is unfamiliar to audiences, they won't go. Perhaps the filmmakers are uncomfortable with new settings. Or, if the setting is unfamiliar, there needs to be massive changes to make it more like today (The Patriot, while enjoyable, made Mel Gibson superhuman AND fabricated the results of the final battle, which was in fact a loss for the Continental Army. Why not use a battle we won? Or just let us lose, audiences know we lost battles but won the war…right?).

Korean movies are much bolder in choosing interesting, fun and diverse settings. The Good, The Bad, The Weird is a gun slinging Western in 1930's China. Several movies take place when Korea was a colony of Japan. A few horror movies take place some 300 years ago where we see traditional Korea clothes. Go Go 70 takes place during the 70's. The President’s Barber takes place during the 60's and on. You're In A Far Away Nation takes the perspective of Korean involvement with the Vietnam war. I think this shows that Korean filmmakers are more comfortable making movies outside their contemporary experience. I also think this shows that filmmakers give their audience some historical credit. American audiences loved Titanic, despite an 80 year gap. So it isn't as if people from the past are foreign to us nowadays, it just seems filmmakers are uncomfortable playing with settings.

The Good, the Bad, the Weird on Amazon

4) Forgettable Characters in Memorable Situations.

The Saw franchise is what I consider to the poster-child of cookie-cutter situations where the characters don't matter at all. The first and second Saw could possibly be considered slightly better than the rest of the series, but the point is similar: if the movie can place any character in the same situation and not change the story, the movie has a very serious problem. The best movies have character-driven stories – would The Social Network be different had the protagonist not been Jesse Eisenberg’s Mark Zuckerberg? Of course! The whole story was built around Zuckerberg’s choices, actions, reactions, motives, desires and fears. If we put anybody else into that situation, the story would unfold differently. In the first Saw, the doctor and photographer are unique enough that their decisions would have some impact on the story (replace Adam with a woman, perhaps Dr. Gordon would have made different choices). This is sedated in the sequel (too many shallow characters) and completely absent in the rest of the series. The only difference between characters is the occupation and the actor/actress.

Many Korean movies have deeper, more complicated characters. It seems that much of the action, tension, love and emotion comes from the characters and not the situation. In one “Simpsons” episode, Ron Howard is pitching a script and says one character faces "a heart-breaking decision to make about whether his best friend lives...or dies." The executive hates the idea, so Howard steals Homer's script idea involving a time-traveling robot and says the robot also faces "a heart-breaking decision to make about whether his best friend lives...or dies.” Without missing a beat, Howard wants a “Sophie's Choice.” It didn't matter who the characters were, or the story’s evolution; all he wanted was a situation and then place the characters in the situation (much like Saw). A better idea would be to create a character that builds up to a point – this would help the audience care about which choice the protagonist makes. Then when the audience cares about the choice, they care about the result. The Korean buddy-cop movies have been abused with repetition, but still manage some strength because the situations result from character decisions. And the audience gets the feeling that if the character were different, so would the movie pivot on that difference.

5) Play with Genres.

It took me a long time to appreciate Korean genre-blending. Sex Is Zero is the perfect archetype and also the specific movie that introduced me to the blending of genres. Sex is Zero is the American Pie of Korea. It is raunchy, sexual, and funny, meant for high school/college viewers. What was most surprising is how quickly it turns serious and after that turn, is no longer a comedy. By all means, the movie seems primarily a sexual coming of age comedy. In one scene, a few male college roommates want to see what happens to sperm if fried in a pan. When their other roommate returns and thinks it would be funny to eat “the fried egg sandwich,” his roommates desperately try to stop him (somewhat mimicking the “pale ale” scene in American Pie). The protagonist, an awkward and horny young man, discovers later that his love interest was dumped by her boyfriend after becoming pregnant. He decides it should be his responsibility to support her during the tear-filled abortion. The character deepens because he shows a love beyond lust, a deeper appreciation for the woman, and an attempt to right a wrong. There are attempts at humor after that point, but it's impossible to laugh after the 180 degree emotional turn.

I saw this occur during many other movies -- ghost movie up to a point, then a romance; crime then comedy; thriller then drama. My first analysis was that Korean films were suffering from identity crisis. Perhaps they just couldn't stick to one genre, so they kept exploring and whatever was the final product was fine. But when I returned to American movies, I became disappointed. It seemed that most American movies could be summarized with one sentence. There was no complexity, no originality. Once a formula for success was found, milk it until it ran dry (remember several Japanese horror remakes after The Ring? The Grudge and Dark Water quickly came to mind), then move on. And as much as we can enjoy American Pie, play with the genre a little more and get something good!

Sex Is Zero on Amazon

6) Can't Predict the Unexpected!

The first Korean horror movie I ever saw, A Tale of Two Sisters, wasn't actually that scary. But when I first watched it, my heart wouldn't stop racing. Why? Because I had nothing to compare it to -- I had no idea what to expect. In American horror movies, when the camera angle changes or the music becomes creepier, we know something is going to happen. Our heart races a little bit. When the conversation is quiet, relaxed with a stable camera, we're relaxed. But A Tale of Two Sisters was quiet and stable the whole movie -- so what hinted that something was about to happen? Nothing. I kept waiting and waiting for the horror, and when it did arrive, I had nothing to prepare me. There were no jumps. In one scene, the awkwardness of dinner builds to a climax when a woman suddenly faints. We don’t see why until a few minutes later, when she describes the person hiding under the sink.

With foreign movies, we have that unpredictability. Until we see enough to consider ourselves accustomed to the culture, we're stuck in perpetual uneasiness. The few horror movies that push the genre in a new direction (The Ring, Paranormal Activity...even Scream for revitalizing slashers) are the most exciting. But they are rare precisely because there is risk involved. After watching enough Korean horror movies, you can get a general hypothesis working and ready to offer predictions...to some degree, destroying the unpredictability. But even then, it takes a lot longer. Hopefully by that point, you’ll have discovered what makes Korean cinema so amazing.

A Tale of Two Sisters on Amazon

7) That Special Director Touch.

American films have a few directors where you can recognize the style of their movie without even reading the credits: Wes Anderson, Coen Brothers, Stanley Kubrick. Korea has these character directors as well: Bong Joon-Ho, Park Chan-Wook, Kim Ki-Duk and Im-Kwon Taek.

Kim Ki-Duk is the easiest example and probably the most artistic and philosophical of contemporary Korean filmmakers. I haven’t seen his earlier work that brought him to prominence, but Bad Guy, Spring Summer Fall Winter And Spring, Samaritan Girl, 3-Iron, and Breath stand as some of the most fascinating and experimental movies in the world (I once met a French woman doing her graduate thesis on Kim Ki-Duk movies, who would be more authoritative on the subject than I). All his movies have something religious, perhaps even a little spiritual about them. In Samaritan Girl, two high school friends work together as prostitute-and-pimp to earn money. When one accidently dies, the second girl takes up prostitution as atonement for her friend’s death. The Samaritan believes that her service actually helps her customers and makes her a better person.

3-Iron is about a homeless man who breaks into apartments and houses every night, performing small chores as payment for the stay. After he is caught and sent to prison, he eventually escapes by disappearing…literally. In perhaps one of Kim’s most powerful scenes, the man reappears behind his love’s husband to kiss her, taking her outstretched hand that moments ago was finding nothing. The whole movie feels like a dream – as many of Kim’s movies do.

Bad Guy on Amazon

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring on Amazon

Samaritan Girl on Amazon

3-Iron on Amazon (Cover depicts described scene)

8) Actors Devoted to Art.

I didn’t really notice this until recently, when I had a friend point it out. Oldboy stars Choi Min-Sik, an established actor in his 40’s. The role requires Oh Dae-Su, the character, to fall to his knees, beg the antagonist for forgiveness, lick the antagonists’ shoes and wag his tail while barking like a dog. My friend was surprised simply because it was a very demeaning scene. He wondered aloud if any American actors would do it. Subsequently, he wondered if any 40 year old established American actors would take a role requiring so much embarrassment. I wondered too.

In an earlier scene, the character was required to eat a live octopus, something that isn’t necessarily abnormal in Korea. But since Choi is Buddhist, he was religiously opposed to doing it. Nonetheless, he executed the scene perfectly (well, not so much. It required several takes and he prayed every time). Choi understood that, even as the star, he couldn’t expect the script rewritten for his personal preferences. Would we be able to say the same for American actors?

Oldboy on Amazon

What are your thoughts? Are there countries in the world creating amazing movies that I need to see? Should American movies still be considered the undisputed ruler of worldwide cinema? And subsequently, is anyone capable of taking them down?

Originally posted at http://bethanytableexperience.blogspot.com/

The American Temptation

I've gone back and forth on Dinesh D'Souza -- sometimes I like him,  other times I don't.

I vaguely remember seeing him on The Daily Show years back. He was  unassuming -- a little Indian guy with glasses, a soft voice, and calmly conservative (contrasted against Bill O’Reilly and Glenn Beck). I can't remember why he was on the show, but he  was laid back and funny. I found him pretty charismatic. He also  seemed to be the next poster child for Republicans: educated, conservative,  intellectual, Christian and...well...not old and white.

A few years passed and I watched him debate Christianity at Oregon State. The question in the debate was "Is Christianity Good for  the World." D'Souza was everything I remember: articulate, laid-back, poignant, intelligent. He presented Christianity from a unique viewpoint – his family was converted to Christianity by “The Portuguese Inquisition”, as he said it. He discovered that Christianity literally came to his family “at the point of a bayonet.”  

What struck me most about his debate was that he became a seeming voice to what I call "Christian-Secular Apologism." He was defending Christianity without quoting the Bible in every sentence, if at all. His opponent, Michael Shermer, taking the position that Christianity was bad for the world, seemed awestruck during question and answer time and how many audience members asked how he could be for gay rights when the Bible says it's wrong. D'Souza stepped in to silence the persistent and wasteful inquiries by basically saying "For people that don't take the Bible as an authority, it doesn't matter if it says homosexuality is wrong one time or a hundred." If I remember right, that comment seemed to quell further questions about homosexuality.

I can't recall if I heard about his book before or after the debate, but in 2007 he released the horribly titled "The Enemy At Home: The Cultural Left and Its Responsibility for 9/11." The alarmist subtext seemed misplaced. It seemed like a stretch. At first, I couldn't believe someone so articulate would clumsily try to tie together liberals and terrorism (it seemed almost like a South Park episode, or more aptly, the storyline of Team America). I remember my perception changing with this book especially because some of his previous titles were "What's So Great About America" in 2002, "The Virtue of Prosperity" in 2001 and "Ronald Reagan: How An Ordinary Man Became an Extraordinary Leader" in 1997. Even his 1995 "The End of Racism" thesis didn't seem too much beyond Fukuyama's "The End of History" in 1992.

I finally decided to read the book before finishing school. Ignoring the alarmist subtext, he presents a compelling argument. D’Souze says the America is a cultural exporter to the Middle East (pretty much everywhere in the world, but his focus was primarily Muslim nations in the Middle East): we send movies, music, fashion, food, ideals, books, government and everything else considered part of our culture to other parts of the world. The problem is that many of our cultural exports reflect perceived ‘immorality’, ‘debauchery’ and ‘secularism’. He argues that the Middle East, and implicitly the rest of the world, does not want their societies to become like the United States they see reflected in our culture (in music: Ke$ha, Britney Spears, Adam Lambert, Marilyn Manson). Many countries don't want sexual advertising, 24 hour bars, 7 day work weeks, fast food, widespread divorce and a separation of Church and State. I could understand the perception that many social problems in Western Society could be seen as an outgrowth of the culture itself (violence in movies causing violence in schools, for example).

He doesn’t necessarily argue this point as far as I take it, but it seems he suggests that American society is a tempting society. That everything we do is a persistent temptation -- sexier, trendier, stronger, better, richer. When Ayatollah Khomeini calls America “The Great Satan,” D’Souza suggests that Khomeini uses Satan as The Great Tempter, not The Great Evil. For instance, it isn’t so much that wanting to sleep with women is evil, but advertising twenty and asking “which one?” is, troublingly, a corrupting temptation . And American culture presents this temptation to the world on a billboard big enough for six billion people. He further exemplifies this problem by mentioning that many (all?) of the 9/11 terrorists had gone to Las Vegas and visited strippers. Odd behavior for men claiming to be so devoted to their religion that they would die for it. Yet unsurprising – for a few years they lived in a society selling sex all the time – of course they would eventually act on it.

I’ve kept these arguments in my mind. When I read articles about terrorism, the Middle East, Iran or Islam, I wonder what face they see of America; if there is any validity to America as the world tempter; terrorists as perceived righteous resisters. D’Souza certainly didn’t need my voice to relay his argument, but recently I started probing if we could apply a similar perspective to ourselves.

So what I’ve been wondering in my mind is if the American Dream is also an American Temptation: a temptation to be better and achieve more – to be dissatisfied with anything less than the whole…the temptation to find the American Dream. Maybe believing that the American Dream is attainable is the actual temptation. What do you all think? 

 

Originally posted at http://bethanytableexperience.blogspot.com/

How to Fix Hollywood

Whether it’s because of video piracy, the fall of Blockbuster and rental stores, or simply a long string of boring movies, Hollywood has been moaning about falling revenue and lost profits. And instead of recognizing a vastly different market – paying less per movie because of Netflix, HDTV delivering superior quality and eliminating a need to visit the theater, TiVo and DVR devices – Hollywood has reacted in the worst way possible by remaking movies and shoving 3D down our throats for an extra $5.

So here is a brainstormed list for how to increase the quality of new films. Many of these techniques are enjoying success in other markets while some are simply evolutionary for film.

1) Connect “Based on a True Story” to Reality:

Voice of a Murderer (2007) follows a Mel Gibson’s Ransom-esque story of a rich father trying to retrieve his son from a kidnapper. The kidnapper receives the money, but demands more without producing evidence that the son is well. After a painful game of cat and mouse, the police advise that the evidence points to homicide and the parents give up. A few days later, they find the body of the boy and deduct that he had been dead before the ransom was even requested. The father takes a long time off from his news anchor job and keeps the entire event a secret. The first story that is aired the night of his return on the news regards the discovery of his son’s body. As he sits in his chair and tries to read the teleprompter, he becomes crippled and starts crying. He looks into the camera and pleads with the audience for help identifying the killer of his only child. All he can offer as a lead is the voice recording, which he painfully introduces. The screen goes black with the text written “the voice that you are listening to is the voice of the actual killer, recorded in 1991. Please listen very carefully.” It is absolutely chilling to hear the real conversation overlapped on police sketches and physical descriptions -- hearing the real mother receiving directions where to meet. The whole movie, the audience only hears characters discussing this tiny piece of evidence (analyzing word choice, accent, age, etc.). Then you really hear it. It’s very difficult to keep yourself composed.

2) Let Women Take a Punch

Remember that scene from Taking Lives (2004), when Angelina Jolie is wearing the fake pregnancy belly and is knocked to the floor at the end (don’t worry, it wasn’t a good movie)? I remember only because the entire audience gasped. A few minutes into this fight and she kills the attacker, revealing the belly as a trick. Nobody made a sound. Concluding from this experience, it seems that audiences are more accepting of violence perpetrated by women than against women. But, problematically, as more women take heroic roles calling for action, it should be expected that they take more ‘roughing up’ than has been the norm. And as cautious as Hollywood is to showing violence against women, it seems there is an implicit insult that women simply aren’t as tough as men. Arnold Schwarzenegger wasn’t made tough by shooting a lot of people, he was made tough by getting his ass kicked but still getting up (think Terminator, Eraser, The Running Man etc.). He always had some blood on his face, a torn shirt, bruises and sweat.

3) Kill Likable Characters

We all know that horror movies like to kill off the annoying and/or guilty characters. The audience usually has no problem watching them die, and even if we feel some remorse, we may react “well it’s better to kill him than…” But films, stretching independent to horror, should keep audiences on their seats with the unexpected. When Marion Crane dies in Psycho (1960), we’re all surprised since we didn’t see it coming. After she’s dead, the whole film feels in flux – we have no idea where it will go, who will live and die and struggle to make predictions since all our initial assumptions (“another heist movie”) are thrown out the window. How can this feeling be recreated? The best way to do this is to craft likable characters, but make them vulnerable. Perhaps it’s a lot to ask stars to not survive the movie, but did anyone go into Iron Man 2 (2010) thinking that Tony Stark wouldn’t resolutely stand triumphant? Exactly. That’s the problem.

4) Give Audiences Some Credit

One of the reasons that Lost was so successful as a TV show was they didn’t force-feed you every detail. They left some paths of the show unexamined, leaving the audience to either piece together a correlation or jump online and read internet forums. Granted, Lost sometimes overindulged in these details, but at least the producers allotted some respect to the audience to discover details themselves. Part of the fun for movies like Matrix (1999) and Inception (2010) was people went home and really tried to interpret the film. Those people made Youtube videos and wrote long articles about why their view was correct (I still remember reading The Matrix as a retelling of Plato’s Cave…met with intense disappointment when it didn’t work out that way). Some people figured it out, some didn’t, but it was stimulating to see the movies interpreted by other people.

5) Revise Ratings

There is a great argument from This Film is Not Yet Rated (2006) that the MPAA (organization that gives ratings to movies) acts as a chilling effect for films. For instance, the MPAA generally gives more restricted ratings for depictions of sexuality than violence. If you ever saw The Triplets of Belleville (2003), the French-Belgium-Canada-U.K. cartoon with amazing art direction, you'll remember the film receiving a PG-13 rating despite no language or violence, but probably because there is a ten second segment at the beginning of the film that has an animated woman dancing topless. Sinfully, her nipples bounce in all directions (I mean it wasn't even meant to look realistic! They really do bounce everywhere!) Remember, this is the same rating as Titanic (1997) with the F-word, gun shots, people dying in a frigid Atlantic, premarital sex, and so on. The MPAA's rating system says these two movies are both intended for people 13 years of age and older, but seems very inconsistent. And the chilling effect comes from a studios' primary goal -- to make money. So if studios don't believe they can make money at an R rating, they demand edits to reach a PG-13. This rating system is incredibly detrimental to the full exploration of art in film. Perhaps this is harder to observe, so instead see the divide between NC-17 and R -- most theaters won't show NC-17 movies, so the studios won’t distribute at NC-17 and they a favor censored R. It's very hard to measure what impact this pressure has on an artists' ability to show what he/she really wants.

6) Experiment With Self-Imposed Censorship

Movies crafted under the heavy hand of censorship have always imagined nuanced ways to communicate ideas under an indefeasible guise to protect their careers. Consider the example of Spring of Korean Peninsula (1941). The story involves a Korean director trying to make a Korean movie, but meeting difficulties at every turn (mostly financial). At this time period, Korea was a colony of Japan, under "cultural genocide." Japan was trying to turn Korea into Japan by forcing Koreans to take Japanese names, speak only Japanese in schools and otherwise eradicate Korean culture from the world. Under film censorship laws, Korean movies had to contain a certain percentage of Japanese spoken language, and often had to include hard subtitles (subtitles imprinted onto the film cells so they couldn't be removed). Needless to say, the Japanese authorities also heavily regulated the production and distribution of Korean cinema to stomp out nationalist sentiment. So directors and producers had to find creative ways to explore Korean art without angering Japanese censors, who had little patience to test boundaries. In Spring of Korean Peninsula, the protagonist will often speak Japanese (probably a requirement for the movie), but appears to do so reluctantly. Famously, in one scene at dinner to congratulate a new financer and foundation of a new film company to assist the director, a speaker talks about how great Japan is for helping her subjects modernize. The camera stays fixed on the protagonist, blank faced, staring down at his food. He's supposed to be happy -- now he has the money to finish making his film (too bad that money comes from Japan...) Everything looks lively, but the audience experiences nothing festive since the protagonist just lifelessly stares down. The film passed censors and was released to Korean audiences in 1941, but it's very hard to judge if the film's nuances were able to communicate to a subjugated people. Notwithstanding, what an amazing example of Korean artistic zeitgeist. Thankfully, the U.S. doesn't have to deal with this rigid censorship, but what if it did? Would our directors be able to craft something profound? Or do our film creators consider us too stupid to really see their message?

7) Let the Antagonist Win

Remember how you felt at the end of the first Saw (2004), when John got up and walked out of the room, closing the door and winning? It was refreshing to see an unpredictable ending, and even more exciting to see the bad guy win. When I was young, I asked my mom why bad guys never win in movies and she explained that society wants to see the good guys win, with "justice" prevailing. And as true as that may be today, it keeps the audience on our toes to actually be unsure if the protagonist wins. If the audience doesn't start a movie almost 100% sure who comes out ahead, the satisfaction of justice is even better. For example, in the original Predator (1987), the alien kills off most of the characters and gives Arnold a helluva fight. Arnold's victory didn't feel assured as the film progressed (they killed off everyone else, including Jesse Ventura and Carl Weathers), whereas something like Prince of Persia (2010) was cookie-cutter, an obvious victory for the hero. This is very similar to killing likable characters.

8) Stop Remakes!

Ok, listen, I think that new technology and storytelling can offer a really good remake (like The Italian Job...maybe even the Wolfman, but only because I didn’t see the original or any remakes). But please please please stop remaking movies twenty years old (Nightmare on Elm Street, The Karate Kid, Robin Hood…Oh God, there are even more in the works...and what the hell, they're re-releasing Avatar a year after it left theaters? Did they need to break even on a budget or something? You don't think...that George Lucas got involved...do you?). And as much as I love the new Batman Begins reboot, every movie franchise doesn't need one (Spiderman is three years old...at least Batman was like five). I also understand that taking excellent foreign movies and bringing them to American audiences is a good idea, in theory, but as Homer Simpsons says "in theory, communism works, in theory." In other words, if remakes of foreign movies are made, don't destroy the essence of the movie that made it so special: My Sassy Girl (2001), the Korean version, and the dismal American remake in 2008. The Korean version was so satisfying because it crafted very unique characters and had fun with them. It was light, humorous and didn't feel like a chick flick. The American remake was the exact opposite, a Dharma & Greg with more drinking and movie stereotypes. It’s almost like filmmakers are convinced that people will hate refreshing takes on overused genres.

9) Make People Think

I've been trying for a long time to find a place to discuss After Life, the 1998 Japanese film (not to be confused with the awful American movie with the same name). It's been hard because the film isn't too exciting, has a lot of issues with pacing, and struggles with character growth – in fact, it really looks more like documentary. The reason I love it so much is that it simply asks one question as “officially” described by an employee in “purgatory” addressing the recently deceased: “We need you to select one memory. One memory that was most meaningful or precious to you. There is a time limit. You have three days to decide. When you’ve chosen your memory, our staff will do their best to recreate it on film. On Saturday, we’ll screen the films for you. As soon as you’ve relived your memory, you will move on, taking only that memory with you.” So now you, the viewer, have three days to find only one memory worth keeping and you forget everything else. Which would you choose? Although there is a story behind this film, for the most part, the meat comes from interviewing the characters (some stories were scripted…but many were honest memories from the real actors). After Life engages the audience in a deep, personal meditation. While we watch the characters describing the memories they've chosen, we're sparked to consider if our similar memory would qualify (then again, perhaps our senior prom wasn't as good as theirs). But we're curious: how old are we? Who's with us? What's the situation? Even more painful, out of our entire life, what memories can we bear to forget?

Some films need to engage audiences this way. While philosophical questions can be wonderfully explored in movies like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), we can often fail to interpose the dilemma facing the characters on ourselves. After Life is a hard movie to watch because it doesn't try to tell us a narrative -- we don't really connect with any characters, many scenes are shot at a flat and boring angle, there is little music. The movie is really only good at one thing: asking us "what would I say?"



This list isn’t complete and may be amended in the future, but consider if these suggestions would help movies. Did I miss anything? Would any of these suggestions hurt the film industry?

How I've been busy

I've been finishing two articles for the upcoming Arts in Alabama. They will be posted here after going in the magazine. Something new should be coming soon!

Five Haunting Scenes from Movies You've Never Seen

You know those scenes in select movies that haunt you long after the movie ends? Not horror scenes, or gruesome violence or even memorable intensity, but the emotionally charged scenes where cinematography and minor nuances of characters deliver the perfect combination to create a deeper meaning beyond the script. These are the scenes that haunt us long after the movie ends. These are the scenes that somehow come to the forefront of our consciousness in everyday life. And while trying to explain the loneliness, love, sadness, fear, anger or any range of emotions exhibited by the characters at that point, you’re left exacerbated: “You just have to see it for yourself.” Here are five haunting scenes from movies you’ve never seen and it’s a tragedy you haven’t:

The Seventh Seal (1957), Sweden
Directed by Ingmar Bergman

Atonius Block (Max von Sydow), along with his squire (Gunnar Björnstrand), come across a young woman about to be burned at the stake for “commerce with the devil.” Block leans in to the woman and asks to meet the devil so he can ask Satan about God. She responds, “You can see him anytime. Look into my eyes.” Block responds, “I see terror. Nothing else.” She then says that he is always with her and the fire won’t hurt. Block asks her if she heard the devil say it, to which she simply responds “I know! I know! You must see him too. The priests could see him. The soldiers too.” The soldiers drag the woman away and tire her to a ladder before resting the ladder against a tree as they build the fire. The squire comes up behind Block and asks, “What does she see? Who will look after that child? The angels? God? Satan? Emptiness?” The camera shows the woman filled with dread looking down at Block. “Look at her eyes!” the squire continues, “Her poor mind is making a discovery! Emptiness! We are helpless. We see what she sees and her terror is ours.” Block starts crying and the squire walks away. The camera moves back to the woman, clenching her teeth with eyes wide as smoke obscures our vision. Block and the squire leave and the woman faints.

On Amazon:
The Seventh Seal (The Criterion Collection)

Peppermint Candy (1999), South Korea
Directed by Lee Chang-dong

Young-ho (Kyung-gu Sol) is a cop working on quelling student organizers protesting against the government. One lead sends him to the city of Kunsan, a medium-sized city in western South Korea. His coworkers ask him if he knows anyone in the city and he replies that his first love lived in Kunsan. The coworkers laugh and say “when he wants to get a girl, he tells her about his first love.” They then suggest that he sleep at a motel since he worked late the night before. He wanders inside a restaurant and the waitress serves him drinks and socializes since the rain scared away all her other customers. She asks him why he is visiting Kunsan, to which he evades by saying “I heard my first love lives in Kunsan ... I didn’t come here to see her. I just wanted to come here. Since it’s where she lives. I want to walk on the same street where she walks and see the same ocean ... the rain that’s falling on me is falling on her.” The waitress laughs and sees this as pickup line, so she cuts to the chase and asks “shall I be the woman that you’re looking for tonight?” We then see them both lying naked in bed, away from each other. He lights up a cigarette. Witnessing his disinterest, the woman starts crying and tells him to call her by the name of the woman he’s trying to find. She instructs him to say something to his lost love and rolls over to hold him. He says his first love’s name, repeats it searching for words, but breaks down crying. “I know how you’re feeling” the waitress weeps on his shoulder, “you don’t need to say a word. I’ve always wanted you to be happy. If you cry, I become sad too.” Brilliantly, the waitress expresses her feelings in this scene, but with Young-ho’s face obscured by darkness, the audience understands this is what he wanted to say.

On Amazon:
Peppermint Candy

The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada (2005), USA
Directed by Tommy Lee Jones

Pete Perkins (Tommy Lee Jones) stands above Mike Norton (Barry Pepper), looking down. Following the journey of Perkins kidnapping Norton, their shared exhaustion is manifested oppositely: Perkins looks depressed, defeated and sternly inconsolable; Norton is relaxed, but his face is cracked, dirty and rough. Perkins offers one of his horses to Norton and calls him “son.” Melancholic music begins as Perkins slowly rides off. Norton, believing himself free from his captor, sits up and longingly watches before calling out “You gonna be all right?” His blistered lips, a reminder of the experience, quiver slightly and he seems uncertain what he should do. Despite his ordeal, he wants to follow Norton. The magic, for the audience, is that we do too.

On Amazon:
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada

Jesus’ Son (1999), USA
Directed by Alison Maclean

FH (Billy Crudup) arrives at this house where Dundun (Michael Shannon) has shot McInnes (John Ventimiglia). FH asks why nobody has taken McInnes to the hospital and then offers to do it himself. Dundun looks reluctant, but the following scene finds him in the passenger seat with FH driving and McInnes in the back. Dundun asks “promise not to tell them anything?” McInnes dies in the backseat. Dundun suggests they throw McInnes out of the car and FH agrees. And here comes the incredibly short but powerful shot: the camera, at the front of the car watching the inside, identifies both men possessing the exact same facial expression and looking at the road in silence. Prior to this moment, they never looked at the same spot – FH was looking to the right while Dundun looked forward, then they would switch. That short moment tells the audience the differences between them can only be measured in centimeters and not miles. Moments later, Dundun pulls FH out of the car to beat him up - FH narrates that he thinks Dundun is trying to keep him quiet and “would you believe me if I said that there was kindness in his heart? His left hand didn’t know what his right hand was doing.” Then we shift to seeing Dundun lazily playing the piano as FH comments that if someone took a soldering iron and scrambled our brains, we might turn “into someone like that.” Dundun stops playing and turns to the camera before the scene ends.

On Amazon:
Jesus' Son

The Lives of Others (2006), Germany
Directed by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck

Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch) witnesses Christa-Maria Sieland (Martina Gedeck), his girlfriend, exiting an expensive car outside their shared apartment. Unaware that he saw her, she rushes to the bathroom and curls in the tub with the shower running, takes a pill, then shivers up in bed. Dreyman enters and tries to talk to her and she pleads to be held. Dreyman holds her for a short time before the camera moves to Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) sitting in his chair, emulating the couple’s cuddling position, wearing his headphones in the attic above their apartment. At this moment, Wiesler wants nothing more than to experience the intimacy of Dreyman and Sieland. Wiesler is positioned slightly to the left in the frame as the empty room takes up more of the frame. The night shift listener enters and his footsteps echo in the attic. Wiesler snaps back to attention, comments that his replacement is late again, and takes off. These two effects demonstrate Wiesler’s loneliness, solitude and estrangement from normalcy.

On Amazon:
The Lives of Others

Article first appeared at http://www.ezflipmags.com/Magazines/View/Arts_In_Alabama_Magazine/6/

Short Stories from Aesthetic Life

I'm proud and a little scared to announce the (self) publication of my first book on the Amazon Marketplace for Kindle!

I made the cover myself -- that's also my handwriting, not a small child's.

I originally compiled this book from short stories and poems I've written over the years. I didn't notice it at the time, but nearly all my stories reflected what Soren Kierkegaard called the "Aesthetic Life." So I wanted to try and follow his example -- write stories exemplifying his philosophy, presented similar to his writing style.

The book is relatively short, but hopefully dense enough to be enjoyed. Here is an excerpt:

I wanted to ask you something. Do you believe in dooms of love? I was trying to understand because Cummings wrote about it. What do you think it means? They just don’t seem to go together. I don’t think many people give it much thought because I say it all the time and nobody ever questions me about it. They sort of accept it and just move on. I figured you wouldn’t do that to me and, of all people, you would hold me the most accountable. So, like seriously, stop me at anytime and ask your questions. If not, I’ll just keep going.

But that just seems to be the way my life is. Honestly man, I move through dooms of love. Whenever we had our last drink, I kept going on and on about how Sophia is one of those non-syntax-type people. The non-syntax-type people, those are the ones, man. Those are the ones. Sorry, I mean those are the ones that take you through those dooms of love. That’s what Sophia does and she is the one.

Good reviews are coming in, as well! Short Stories from Aesthetic Life is featured on the New York Times Website (under various comment sections before my account was banned and comments deleted).

Lastly, purchasing my book supports me against Tim Treen in the 2010 Books for Beer competition! Whoever sells more books on Kindle receives a delicious beer from the loser. And when does beer taste the best? Football games? On a boat? How about won from a bet with your losing friend, knowing full well his sweat and tears brought such joy to your lips? Yeah, I think the last one is when beer tastes the best.

The end of the competition is December 27th 2010, where we anticipate we will be sitting down together at a bar to toast the winner and harass the loser.

Keep your eyes posted for more information on the great 2010 Books for Beer competition. Just need to wait for Treen to get his book on the marketplace and I will have a full review of his work. 

P.S., Even though you may not have a Kindle, apps are available for iPhone, Android, iPad, Windows PC, Mac and Blackberry. Free download HERE