Miss Baek (2018) Review

“Miss Baek” Theatrical Poster

Director: Lee Ji-won
Cast: Han Ji-Min, Kim Shi-A, Lee Hee-Joon, Kwon So-Hyun, Baek Soo-Jang, Jang Young-Nam, Kim Sun-Young, Lee Joo-Young, Jung Kyung-Ho
Running Time: 98 min.

By Paul Bramhall

While many argue that Korean cinema has lost the gritty edge that drew selected audiences to it in the first place, what can’t be argued is that in the 10’s, some of the best examples of uncompromising cinema came from women directors. From Jeong Joo-ri’s A Girl at My Door, to Shin Su-won’s Madonna, to Lee Kyoung-mi’s The Truth Beneath. Much like the Korean economies own Miracle on the Han River, so it also feels like its film industry went through a similarly rapid modernisation, with its output from the mid-90’s becoming increasingly sophisticated. One aspect of the film industry which has been slower to change though, is the fact that it remains a largely male dominated arena when it comes to directors, so it’s been a pleasure to see how much female directorial talent has come to the fore over the last decade, and hopefully it’ll continue to do so.

If Miss Baek is any indication to go by, then that looks to definitely be the case, which marks the directorial debut of Lee Ji-won. While it may be the first time for Ji-won to sit in the directors’ chair, she’s been involved in the film industry for the last 20 years, having worked on the likes of K-wave classics such as Bungee Jumping of Their Own and The Scarlett Letter. After helming the 2007 short film Talk to Her, Miss Baek heralds her first full length feature, with her previous experience mainly involved in scripting and adaptations. That experience served Ji-won well, as she also wrote the script for Miss Baek, partly based on her own experiences of a scenario she witnessed.

As a first-time director, Ji-won’s decision to tackle a subject with child abuse at its centre was one which resulted in plenty of hesitation from potential distributors, but once watched it’s easy to understand why any hesitation was unfounded. Han Ji-min (The Age of Shadows) plays a woman whose life has been dealt a few bad hands. As a child she suffered at the hands of her mentally ill alcoholic mother, and as a teenager was incarcerated due to defending herself from an attempted rape, her poor background proving no match for the rapists rich and well-connected family ties. Taken under the wing of the detective who investigated the case, and knew the truth all too well, Ji-min has grown into a woman with little self-worth, and spends her time split between working as a masseuse in a beauty salon and a car washer in a garage.

Her tough exterior is challenged for the first time when she comes across a small girl huddled outside a closed store on a winter’s night, played by Kim Si-ah (Ashfall), wearing nothing but a few rags and covered in bruises. The traditional Korean bathroom slippers the girl wears takes Ji-min back to her own unhappy childhood, and for a brief moment her paternal instinct kicks in, deciding to take the girl to a roadside eatery for a meal.  Their stilted conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the girl’s cheery stepmother, played by Kwon So-hyun (Madonna), who’s quick to apologise for the inconvenience and cajoles Si-ah back to the car. Back at home, we learn that Si-ah is subjected to brutal beatings from both her stepmother and video game addicted father, played by Baek Soo-jang (A Single Rider), who’d prefer it if Si-ah simply didn’t exist. Although reluctant, Ji-min begins to slowly value herself enough to try and save the little girl.

While the above synopsis may sound like some heavy matter to tackle, and it undoubtably is, Ji-won displays a skilled hand by framing the circumstances through the lens of a thriller, rather than a melodrama. Indeed the opening scene almost feels like a misdirection, as we meet the detective who we later learn is involved with Ji-min, played by Lee Hee-joon (Misbehavior). He’s been called to an apartment where a dead body has been discovered, and as he slips some cash to the officer who called him to the scene, its revealed he’s been on the look out for any cases involving a particular name. The name turns out to be Ji-min’s estranged mother who Hee-joon, against Ji-min’s wishes, has been searching for. Needless to say, he wasn’t hoping that when he finally finds her, she’d be a several weeks old corpse.

Ji-won may be a first-time director, however she’s enlisted a cast that clock in some powerhouse performances. Similar to Son Ye-jin in The Truth Beneath, here Ji-min is cast against type, in a role which is a world away from the chirpy characters she’s used to playing in romantic comedies and period pieces. Put simply she’s a revelation, and nails the character. From the obtuse and guarded woman we meet at the beginning, through the transition to the tough and determined portrayal we meet at the end, it’s a convincing journey certainly helped by the fact it’s not made an easy one. Ji-min’s character comes with several suitcases full of emotional baggage, with her insistence on being called Miss Baek rather than the honorific ‘ma’am’ that Si-ah should refer to her by, being the strongest indicator of how she views herself. The fact that the character trait also lends itself to the movies title is a fitting one.

Miss Baek is the debut of Kim Si-ah, a 9-year-old actress (at the time of filming) who was discovered through a nationwide casting process for the role, and hits all the right notes as the abused victim. Similar to Kim Sae-ron in The Man from Nowhere, she shows a gift for acting that belies her age, and is completely believable. That’s no small feat, considering a couple of harrowing scenes that involve her being beaten and dragged across the floor. While the scenes are difficult to watch, Ji-won shows a nuanced hand in directing them, so that they never cross the line into feeling exploitative, and remain grounded in reality. As the villain of the piece, Kwon So-hyun does an amazing job at making you hate her, here a world away from her role as a victim in her 2014 breakthrough Madonna. Polite and upstanding when in church, and a monster behind closed doors, her lack of remorse gives the audience a focal point for their anger. 

While it’s not a story that we haven’t seen before, with Jeong Joo-ri’s A Girl at My Door using a similar structure to paint a story of two damaged souls finding each other, the execution here is flawless enough that it feels fresh. This is largely thanks to, despite the serious nature of the topics Miss Baek covers, it never overwhelms the fact that, at its heart, this is a story about hope and redemption. Ji-won seems to be aware of this, and despite the dark subject matter, even through the bleakest scenes it feels like there’s a slither of light just beyond the horizon. It’s a fine balance that Korean cinema hasn’t always gotten right in recent years, with certain productions sometimes feeling needlessly cruel for the sake of being cruel, and a bleak ending too often coming across as overly nihilistic rather than daring or original. Miss Baek strikes the needed balance, and every scene in its lean (for a Korean movie) 98 minute runtime serves a purpose.

Credit has to go to Ji-won’s script for the way it smartly weaves small pieces of information that are fed to us at the beginning to create a legitimate sense of tension later. We know that Ji-min’s character has a criminal record, and while its initially stated as character background, it later proves to be a key factor that So-hyun is able to twist against her.  Elements like this keep the tension on a constant simmer throughout, with the prospect of Ji-min coming face to face with So-hyun kept bubbling just beneath the surface. It’s these thriller-like elements that are seamlessly integrated into the story that really elevate Miss Baek to the next level. It would be easy for a story like this one to be a punishing melodrama, or for the different genre elements to grate against each other and damage the integrity of the narrative, but instead everything is balanced in a way that comes together exactly as it should.  

My favorite scene came towards the end, where Ji-min stands in the shadow of a tunnel, and she reprimands Si-ah that if she dares follow her a step further, which would also see her step into the shadow, they’ll never see each other again. It indicates that Ji-min’s Miss Baek has come to accept that while her life may reside in a dark place, it’s still possible to do good and believe in yourself. Ultimately Miss Baek has a lot to say about the vicious cycle of child abuse, and the impact it has on those who are the victim of it later in life. But equally so, it also has a lot to say about the power of not giving up on yourself no matter what your circumstances are, and that sometimes we can find our purpose through others even if we struggle to find it ourselves.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 8.5/10