Juxtaposing this geopolitical reality with the drowning out noise of a high school boy lost in the cool world of his motorcycle vividly points in the direction of where this film is headed in a way that we will remember more than we would if we only had lines to quote from the film. He gets willy-nilly recruited into a dope courier job for the gangster President Kang Jo Jae-hyun, Hanbando , Romance. Marine Boy is a typical commercial "action film" being turned out with a sense of foot-dragging futility by the Korean industry these days. Some reviews have blasted it as a pretentious bore or a poorly conceived adaptation of Emile Zola's Therese Raquin from which this film borrows certain plot points and a love triangle central to the plot: When a college student who was demure to Director Ku outside the classroom before watching his film in class, a film she claims to have seen before, responds bluntly that she doesn't understand why he makes the films he does, arguing, perhaps correctly, that people don't understand his films, Director Ku response is close to an outrage. It is a treatise on the inherent meaninglessness of our words and actions, and by extension, the meaninglessness of cinematic signifiers, such as his refusal to announce his character's dreams.
Dooman River is the blue river referenced in the title of this film, a river that stands as the border between China and North Korea. It takes a premise and a plot vaguely reminiscent of a '70s or '80s Hollywood action thriller this time, it's Peter Benchley's The Deep, itself more than a little schlocky and illogical and tries to update them with slick visuals imported from TV commercials, while "Koreanizing" the characters by burdening them with arch-melodramatic gestures, dialogues and motivations. Yet, for every one of these winners, there is another totally mind-boggling scene like Baek-man's dog hurling sarcasm at him telepathically? However I seem to be in the minority here -- most people I talk to adore this film. There's no foreshadowing that lasts more than ten minutes, and most clues are explained away in the very next sequence. First, I suspect someone loved Jean-Pierre Jeunet's hit Amelie, a movie I hated for the way it reveled in its own cuteness - so if you liked Amelie, maybe you should give Kitchen a try. In any case, there's no room for a detective to do anything, much less show himself off. The film's biggest assets, not surprisingly, are its two stars: Here Ku covers up the bizarre reaction of a former friend with what was covered up in a film before. The virus kills him, but he is miraculously resurrected by blood transfusion. Still, Jin-tae seems to have nothing better to do than hang out with Do-joon. Any moderate reader among them would have been familiar with the ABCs of detective novels. The film is full of these even-its-goofs-are-hilarious moments. And who makes these toys for Hong? Is it simply that the man has gravitated towards a more natural state, while the woman has moved away from it? It fits him like a glove. Yet Possessed does not stint on the boogaboo factor either. Another badly formulated character is the police officer Oh Young-dal. His manner is operatic: Incidentally, she was enrolled as a student in my Practical English class at Korea University back around , but I guess that's neither here nor there Hong Gyeong-pyo's photography captures the grittiness of decrepit small towns and the working poor; there's a lot of grey and murk, and even the blood looks dark and muddy. But, again, the forced moments of high-schooler dialogue simply limit the impact the film can have. Coming in unaware also allows for a certain disorientation among viewers that can be taken into Cheol-yi's mother's later scenes when she arrives in South Korea as a confused, scared, but determined, undocumented worker. Or an eclectic super-hero like his namesake Holmes? However, being rough and unpolished does not equal lack of professionalism.
Video about the mother movie sex scene:
SyntaxTextGen not activated