On a mоrе nеgаtіvе note, whеrе wіll thе fіlm іnduѕtrу bе іn thе future?
Nо оnе саn predict thе answer, but соmраnіеѕ nееd tо start thіnkіng. And it can definitely make a difference – you can even play a crossword online these days, for example, which just goes to show innovation is there, and the same kind of thinking outside the box could apply to movies and not just games.
Mоvіе wаtсhеrѕ wаnt tо gеt аwау frоm a bіg movie аnd tаlk аbоut іt lаtеr wіth thеіr friends. Today they prefer to interact with their friends directly and create entertainment together on platforms like Twitch, learning their new craft on communities like Onetwostream. Lately, thе fіlm іnduѕtrу hаs bееn ѕlоwіng dоwn аnd аttrасtіng nеgаtіvе аttеntіоn tо іtѕеlf. Whаt саn bе dоnе fоr improvement? Lеѕѕ money spent оn рrоmоtіоn, mоrе money ѕреnt оn production. Thіѕ іѕ оnе оf thе mаіn rеаѕоnѕ whу thе іnduѕtrу іѕ bеhіnd schedule. Tаkе thе movie Sрееd Rасеr, fоr example. Thе fіlm wаѕ a financial fаіlurе; thе company ѕреnt аbоut 80 million fоr a marketing campaign аnd оnlу rаіѕеd 85 million worldwide. Marketing іѕ іmроrtаnt, but nоt аѕ іmроrtаnt аѕ thе mоvіе іtѕеlf. Tо еlіmіnаtе thіѕ рrоblеm, fіlm studios muѕt define a bаѕіс rulе fоr аllосаtіng a сеrtаіn реrсеntаgе оf thе production budgеt tо оthеr еxреnѕеѕ. Thіѕ mау асtuаllу рrоvіdе a ѕраrk thаt thе іnduѕtrу desperately nееdѕ nоw.
AKA: Mard Ko Dard Nahin Hota Director: Vasan Bala Producer: Ronnie Screwvala Cast: Abhimanyu Dassani, Radhika Madan, Gulshan Devaiah, Mahesh Manjrekar, Jimit Trivedi Running Time: 138 min.
By Paul Bramhall
It feels only right to start this review by stating I’ve become my own worst enemy. I have a pet peeve about certain reviews, and it’s the kind that start off with “I’m not usually into these type of movies, but thought I’d give this one a go…” It’s a line I come across more frequently than I’d like to, and never fails to put me in touch with some primitive urge to hunt down the reviewer in question, and ask them what the value is in writing a review for a genre they know they’re not going to enjoy!? With that said, I confess the world of Bollywood has never been one I’ve been able to fully embrace. I tried once before with Rocky Handsome, and it didn’t end well, and yet here I am, having just come out the other side of The Man Who Feels No Pain’s epic 135 minute runtime.
The reason that drove me towards entering the world of Bollywood once more is likely the same as many fans of martial arts cinema. In 2017 The Stunt People co-founder Eric Jacobus (Death Grip) had started sharing photos on social media, showing him and fellow Stunt People alumni Dennis Ruel (Unlucky Stars) working in India on a new action movie. The Stunt People, Jacobus and Ruel in particular (just check out their fights in Contour and the Rope A Dope shorts), have been behind some of the most innovative action shorts of the past 20 years, so to see them lending their combined talents to any production, regardless of where it’s from, was an exciting one.
Of course The Man Who Feels No Pain isn’t the first time for a Bollywood movie to bring in foreign talent to assist with their action. Apart from Patrick Kazu Tang appearing in the aforementioned Rocky Handsome, in 2006 Ching Siu-Tung was brought on-board for Krrish, in 2011 Johnny Tri Nguyen was cast as the villain in 7am Arivu, and Yuen Woo-Ping was brought in for S. Shankar’s Enthiran and I, from 2010 and 2015 respectively. Oh, and lest we forget Bruce Le’s infamous appearance in 1981’s Katilon Ke Kaatil. There’s a key difference between these productions though and The Man Who Feels No Pain, and that’s that director Vasan Bala specifically reached out to Jacobus to create “Rope A Dope action in a Bollywood film.” If that meant all of the usual Bollywood actions clichés being cast to one side – I’m thinking the exaggerated super human capabilities, and the slower than slow motion slow-mo – then I was in.
The Man Who Feels No Pain is Bala’s sophomore full length feature, after 2012’s crowd funded Peddlers, and he’s given the title role to newcomer Abhimanyu Dasani, here making his screen debut. As the title suggests, Dasani was born with an insensitivity to pain (which means we definitely need a Darkman cameo if there’s a sequel). After his mother dies at birth due to a run in with a pair of bag snatchers, various events culminate in Dasani’s conservative father deciding to keep him at home for the next 12 years, where he begins to consume a never ending supply of action movies via VHS. Supported by his world weary grandfather (look out for the Sam Seed poses), he eventually comes across a tape showing a one-legged karate master reigning victorious in a 100-man kumite, and makes it his mission to track this mysterious ‘Karate Man’ down and ask him to be his teacher.
It’s here that whatever plot that Bala had in mind begins to implode on itself, but before being too harsh on The Man Who Feels No Pain, it’s worth mentioning that for local audiences this may not necessarily be paramount to their enjoyment. Bala packs both the script and the screen with references to action movies of old, and for every reference there is to the likes of Armour of God, Game of Death, Die Hard, or Terminator, there’s at least 5 more referencing the macho Bollywood flicks of the 80’s and 90’s (the Indian title itself is an iconic line from 1985’s Mard). For a mostly ignorant viewer such as myself, almost all of these went over my head, however reading about the production in retrospect, it’s clear that there are plenty of homages thrown in for the discerning Bollywood cinephile to get a kick out of.
For someone that’s left to extract their enjoyment purely from the plot, characters, and action though, there are several issues. Dasani does indeed find the one-legged Karate Man, played by Gulshan Devaiah, and in one of those ‘only in the movies’ moments, his long lost childhood flame is also part of his idols ensemble. Played by TV actress Radhika Madan, apart from her Hammer Girl-esque wardrobe, she’s become someone that doesn’t know what to do with their life, and is engaged to a rich businessman who may be able to pay the bills, but doesn’t necessarily make her happy. As the Karate Man, Devaiah has also fallen on hard times, and this is where things get strange. The main villain of the piece turns out to be Devaiah’s twin brother, also played by Devaiah, whose small-time gangster has become a “stereotypical psycho” after Karate Man slept with his girlfriend.
It was at this point I was expecting some flawed character study of Karate Man, perhaps how he could never forgive himself for sleeping with his twin brother’s girlfriend and making him become a psychotic bad guy. But the fact that he indulged in this sexual faux passé, and just how wrong it was, is bizarrely never touched upon, and does zero to Dasani’s enthusiasm to emulate his hero. From this strange set of circumstances develops the main plot, which has Devaiah’s gangster relieve Karate Man of a pendant which he holds dear, and Dasani convinces Madan and Devaiah (who’s a highlight pulling double duty) that they should set out to get it back. It’s a wafer thin story, and almost feels like it’s no longer about Dasani at all, who spends his time mumbling around as the naïve and slightly goofy young adult who’s spent 12 years under house arrest.
The problem is that the pendant isn’t important to Dasani, apart from a poor attempt to connect it to his mission to avenge his mother, so from a plot perspective the audience doesn’t care if they get it back or not. Another problem is that Madan’s character is far more interesting than Dasani. Her woes about not having a direction in life and the pressures of marrying for social status feel unnecessary, and no doubt contribute to the bloated runtime, but at the same time they’re more interesting than Dasani’s childlike perspective on always trying to do the right thing. The viewpoint of seeing life through the lens of all the action movies he’s seen is a novel one, but at no point does it feel like he has a character arc, and when the credits roll he still feels like the overly idealistic cardboard cut-out that we meet at the start.
Which leaves us with the action. Bala may have requested for Rope A Dope style action, but it’s clear that he’s been a fan of The Stunt People for a while. The plot device from Death Grip, Jacobus’ sophomore feature length movie, which has the main character imagine how a fight is going to go down, before snapping out of it and having to face reality, is also applied here in liberal doses. Dasani is our narrator, and he’s an unreliable one, providing the audience with a view into how he perceives things. A re-telling of his birth has him comparing his mother to The Terminator, before he winds back and confesses his take was “too dramatic”. In another scene he witnesses Madan being harassed by a group of men, and proceeds to unleash on them, before it’s revealed he’s still stood there and is only imagining what he wants to do.
The fights themselves are entirely grounded, which is a welcome sight, however they haven’t escaped from the super slow-motion effect that Bollywood productions are obsessed with, with every flying kick subjected to the technique. The influence of Jacobus and Ruel is evident, with Madan’s Hapkido styled throws recalling similar moves we’re used to seeing Ruel pull off, and the visual gags within the fight scenes are of a distinctly different flavour than the humor found in the scenes that surround them. However if you’re clocking in to The Man Who Feels No Pain for the action alone, it’s worth pointing out that in such a long runtime, comparatively there’s not that much of it. Bala may have created a worthy homage to the action movies of yesteryear, but whether it stands up as a worthy action movie itself is another question. Time will tell if it’s remembered as fondly 30 years from now, as the movies it so joyously references.
Renny Harlin, noted Hollywood film director known for his 90’s blockbusters Die Hard 2 and Cliffhanger, is getting ready to unleash Bodies at Rest (aka Witness), an upcoming thriller starring Nick Cheung (Keeper of the Darkness, The White Storm), Richie Jen (Trivisa) and Yang Zi (Death and Glory in Changde).
Bodies at Rest (read our review) sees a forensics expert and his intern assistant ready to call it a day in the morgue when a group of masked thugs break in. The thugs demand access to a body that contains evidence to a crime they recently committed (via Variety).
Following 2016’s Skiptrace (with Jackie Chan and Johnny Knoxville) and Legend of the Ancient Sword (with Leehom Wang), Bodies at Rest marks the 3rd Chinese production for Harlin.
Bodies at Rest opens domestically August 15th, 2019. Don’t miss the film’s Newest Trailer below:
While today many would consider the Korean film industries output to be some of the best in the world, it wasn’t always this way. Just 30 years ago, Korean cinema was in crisis, going through what could easily be argued to be one of its darkest periods. To fully understand why, it’s important to consider the situation the country was in at the time.
Chun Doo-hwan
South Korea finally achieved true democracy in 1987, holding its first legitimate elections in over two decades, after spending the 80’s under what was essentially a military dictatorship, led by Chun Doo-hwan. A military man who, in April 1980, became the director of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency, Doo-hwan is now largely seen as a power hungry figure, one who was willing to do whatever it takes to become President. Barely a month into his role as director of the KCIA, on 17th May he expanded martial law across the entire country, citing (unfounded) rumors of North Korean infiltration into the South. Troops were dispatched into various towns, universities were closed, and any political activity was banned.
The growing civilian unrest eventually manifested itself in the town of Gwangju, where various activists came together on 18th May to protest the increasing military presence. Doo-hwan ordered the protests to be supressed using extreme force, leading to the infamous Gwangju Massacre, in which several hundred activists and civilians where ruthlessly slaughtered by the military (A Taxi Driver covers these events). Less than a month later, President Cho Kyu-ha resigned, and Doo-hwan put himself forward as the sole presidential candidate. With no competition and the backing of the military, he was inaugurated into office on 1st September, and so began one of South Korea’s ugliest political eras.
“A Taxi Driver” Korean Theatrical Poster
It was an interesting time to be a part of the film industry. Any movies which had a political theme, or where seen as being even indirectly critical of the regime, where strictly banned. Likewise any talk of democratization was a sure way to find yourself being hauled off by the police and beaten to a pulp. In an attempt to take the populations mind off the political situation, Doo-hwan introduced the 3S Policy, which stood for ‘Sex, Screen, and Sports’. The idea was to make each one a major source of entertainment for the public, and for the film industry, the ironic relaxation of censorship on sex and nudity paved the way for the 80’s Korean erotic cinema boom.
In April of 1987, almost 7 years after the Gwangju Massacre, Doo-hwan announced his successor, Roh Tae-woo, along with his plans for him to take over via an indirect election. Considering this was the way Doo-hwan himself had come to power in 1980, enough time had passed for the democratization community to become enraged with a renewed vigour. After the death of a student at the hands of Doo-hwan’s Anti-Communist Unit, they took to the streets of Seoul in their thousands (1987: When the Day Comes covers these events). The protests became known as the June Democracy Movement, and fearing another repeat of what happened 7 years earlier, Tae-woo made a speech announcing the countries first direct presidential election in 16 years, which took place in December. He won the election, and true to his speech, pushed South Korea down the path of democracy, from which it hasn’t looked back from since.
“1987: When the Day Comes” Theatrical Poster
For the film industry though, the new era marked tough times. After the excitement of the 1988 Olympics being held in Seoul, during the late 80’s and early 90’s South Korea was a country slowly coming to terms with the fact it had become a democracy. The impact on the film industry though was a sullen one, with interest in movies dropping to a point that cinema admissions were at an all-time low. Combine this with market liberalisation, which allowed Korea to open its doors to an influx of big budget Hollywood productions and Hong Kong action movies, suddenly local productions seemed unappealing in comparison.
There was one director though who was able to turn things around, who came in the form of revered filmmaker Im Kwon-taek. While for many fans of modern Korean cinema, Kwon-taek’s name will likely be one that brings to mind his more contemplative work (such as Festival and Strokes of Fire), throughout the 60’s and 70’s he helmed a number of action and adventure flicks. It was in 1990 that he decided to return to the gangster genre that had been off-limits for close to a decade, with The General’s Son, in what would become the first entry in a trilogy. It was a decision that proved to be a significant one, heralding the first time for a local production to hit 700,000 admissions in Seoul since 1977’s Winter Woman. After more than a decade, Korean cinema was back.
“The General’s Son” Korean Theatrical Poster
Similar to how both Wong Fei Hung and Ip Man reinvigorated the action genre in Hong Kong, so Kwon-taek turned to the real life figure of Kim Doo-han to create a protagonist for Koreans to rally around. Doo-han was a lot more rough and tumble compared to his stoic Chinese counterparts, rising up from a homeless vagabond to become the leader of the Jongro street gang, at a time when Korea was under Japanese rule. He may have been illiterate, but as a fighter, Doo-han quickly gained a reputation for being the fiercest fist around. Frequently a source of trouble for the Japanese occupiers, Doo-han flitted in and out of prison thanks to his unruly ways, until the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 put an end to 35 years of occupation.
While the real life Doo-han would go on to become a politician, The General’s Son series isn’t interested in covering his political aspirations, instead choosing to focus on a youth spent street fighting his way to the top, and at the same time, redefining Korean action cinema. For the Korean audience, the appearance of Kim Doo-han on the big screen was a significant one. He’d already appeared on the small screen in the 70’s portrayed by Lee Dae-geun (and has appeared in various incarnations since – most recently in 2002’s Rustic Period), so after an absence of over a decade, a tale of the everyman Korean rising up against the Japanese occupiers was just what was needed.
Stepping into the shoes of Doo-han was a 20 year old Park Sang-min, making his screen debut, and he’d continue to anchor the other 2 entries in the trilogy. When we first meet Doo-han he’s a beggar who’s just been released from a year behind bars after a petty offence. Securing a job at the local cinema in the heart of Mapo-gu – a location that’s as prominent a feature in the trilogy as much as Doo-han himself – his measly payment consists of a handful of Won and 2 free movie tickets. When a pair of thugs relieve him of the tickets, his talent for brawling quickly sends them scampering, unbeknownst to him that the pair are actually part of a gang. Far from retaliating though, the gang leader is impressed by Doo-han’s fighting talent, and offers him a job, kick-starting his ascent through the hierarchy, matched by a slow burning disdain for the Japanese yakuza that now populate the streets.
“The General’s Son II” Korean Theatrical Poster
Onscreen the aesthetic is almost like that of a pulpy gangster novel, transferred directly from the imagination to the film reel. The gangs, portrayed as tough yet righteous, come decked out in trilby hats and tailored suits with oversized shoulder pads. The Japanese yakuza spend most of their time running around decked out in black robes, katana in hand, barked at in a gravelly low pitched voice by their leader, portrayed by Shin Hyun-jun (of Bichunmoo and Shadowless Sword fame). It was an aesthetic that would come to define Korean action cinema in the 90’s, spawning countless imitations (notably 1992’s Sirasoni – another famous Korean freedom fighter from the same era), and a wave of high kicking gangster action that would only come to an end with Shiri’s international breakthrough.
Pulpy in its nature as it may be, the imagery in The General’s Son is undeniably arresting. A fight takes place in the far reaches of the screen, as a pair of trams slowly cross each other in the foreground, a gang members face is framed, so that only one piercing eye is shown looking out from beneath the brim of his hat, and the sets, though dated, are a joy to look at. The care that’s gone into constructing these shots, is indicative that Kwon-taek was a director enjoying his return to the gangster genre, while at the same time setting out the tropes that it would come to follow for the rest of the decade. The whole trilogy is one of unapologetic machismo, and equally unapologetic patriotic chest thumping, with Kwon-taek’s female-centric work of the 80’s such as The Surrogate Woman replaced by a world of Taekwondo kicks to the face and bloody noses.
Indeed perhaps it was the influx of Hong Kong action cinema that made Kwon-taek pay the level of attention that he did to the fight sequences in The General’s Son, and if that is the case then it’s just one more thing we have Hong Kong cinema to thank for. The action is distinctly Korean in its flavour, and while the multiple assailant brawls are still a staple of the Korean gangster genre today, a large part of the pleasure in watching The General’s Son trilogy is in the number of one on one fight scenes they contain. In the first instalment in particular, there’s a real focus on the style of the opponent – we get a Korean double blade master, a Japanese Judo practitioner, and a Taekwondo fighter cut from the same cloth as Doo-han. The fight with the Judo master even goes so far as to incorporate a training sequence, in which Doo-han spends his time practically theorising as to how his kicks can beat Judo’s throws.
“The General’s Son III” Korean Theatrical Poster
Despite being made across a period of 3 years, all 3 of The General’s Son movies look as if they’ve been filmed back to back, with only subtle details such as Shin Hyun-jun’s changing hair length being indicative of them being made at different times. Apart from revitalising the Korean action genre, the trilogy is also notable for giving a start to several familiar names in the Korean film industry who are still active today. Out of everyone, perhaps the most recognizable is a young Hwang Jung-min (Veteran), who makes his screen debut in the first instalment as a bar tender, one with barely more than a couple of lines. Ironically Jung-min and Park Sang-min are the same age, and while Jung-min has gone on to be one of Korea’s top leading men, Sang-min remained largely relegated to the 90’s, with only a brief handful of appearances post-2000, one of which was as the villain in the poorly received 2003 action flick Tube.
In the 1991 sequel, Korea’s most well-known action director Jung Doo-hong turns up in one scene, for the sole purpose of laying a beat down on a pair of gang members. One of his first appearances in front of the camera, Doo-hong is most recognizable for his turn as the co-lead in Ryoo Seung-wan’s City of Violence, from 2006. Indeed the scene in question is an appropriate microcosm of what The General’s Son II is all about – the action. While in the first instalment Kwon-taek showed a deft hand at world building amongst the macho posturing, showing an obvious joy in exploring the sets in which the Mapo-gu of old was faithfully recreated, the sequel is keen to get straight down to business. It’s a gangster flick in the purest sense of the word, and enjoyed the same success as the original.
The sequel kicks off in identical fashion to its precursor, with Doo-han being released from prison, this time for the damage he inflicted during one his infamous brawls against the Japanese. Things are different now though, gone is the shabby clothed beggar, and in his place is the sharply dressed gang boss who’s become a hero to the local Korean community. Plot clearly takes a backseat in the second instalment, with more of an emphasis on getting from one mass brawl or one on one fight to the next. Presumably Kwon-taek was working under the assumption that Korean audiences would be familiar with events in Doo-han’s formative years, as sometimes the timeline erratically jumps forward from one scene to the next.
“Marriage Story” Korean Theatrical Poster
He gets thrown into prison, and in the next scene is released, with no real sense of how much time he’s spent inside, and the various women who enter Doo-han’s life are given the same treatment. In one scene he’ll be with one woman, and a few scenes later she’ll have completely disappeared and be replaced with another. Clearly in addition to being an excellent fighter, fearless patriot, and gang leader, he was also quite the Casanova. While for those unfamiliar with the life of Doo-han (which includes myself), such a structure may sound contrived (which it arguably is), but it’s never confusing. It comes across more like Kwon-taek felt an obligation to include certain events that took place in Doo-han’s life, however never gave much thought to how they fit into the bigger picture of the story he wants to tell. So we just get these chronologically inserted tangents which move the timeline along, but do little for the stories narrative.
Despite it lacking the narrative strength of its predecessor, The General’s Son II delivered on what the fans of the original wanted to see more of, and that was Doo-han kicking Japanese posterior. If we use that as a measurement of success, then it’s easy to see why the sequel delivered the goods, and a third round was quickly ushered into production. However the third time wasn’t quite the charm this time around, and The General’s Son III was beaten at the 1992 box office by Marriage Story, a romantic comedy about a warring couple that served as an early template for movies like My Sassy Girl. It was a time of gradual shifting in Korean cinema, with Kwon-taek himself switching focus to the type of movie he’d become best known for with 1993’s Sopyonje, which steeped itself in the traditions of Korean traditional folk singing (and notably became the first Korean flick to clock over one million admissions in Seoul).
While the third instalment may be the weakest of the trilogy, it’s still far from being a bad movie, especially for those clocking in purely for the spectacle of watching sharply dressed gangsters kick people in the face. Interestingly The General’s Son III seems keen to broaden its scope, with proceedings initially opening with an exiled Doo-han eventually ending up in Manchuria, when he and his series rival/friend (played by Lee Il-jae) find themselves attempting to make money from the opium trade. In the end though it all feels like a precursor for Doo-han to return to Mapo-gu and finally face off against Shin Hyun-jun. Although in all fairness, the series never feels like it’s building up to such a confrontation, and could well be debated to end things in such a way because those involved realised there wasn’t going to be a fourth.
“Raging Years” Korean Theatrical Poster
Both the structure and tone of the closing chapter feels more loose than its predecessors. There’s a running joke of Doo-han and his love interest (well, actually just his love interest) being excessively vocal during their nights together, which is supposed to be comedic, but somehow doesn’t sit well with the overall tone. It’s ironic then, that the love interest here is the most fleshed out in terms of backstory and character, more so than any other female character in the series. Kwon-taek had already proven himself to be a capable director of female-centric stories during the 80’s, so his handling of the material here is perhaps indicative of his uncertainty of how to insert such content, into what was an overwhelmingly macho series to date.
The General’s Son III also wears its Hong Kong influences on its sleeve more than any of the previous entries. Throwing any sense of realism to the wind, when Doo-han is (once again) thrown in prison for his brawling, he’s offered a chance to be released if he can defeat 3 Japanese fighters consecutively. Precursing a similar setup in Ip Man by 16 years, the fight is staged in the prison hall with the guards overseeing proceedings, while the hall itself is surrounded by kneeling Japanese decked out in their white gi’s. Doo-han takes them on adorned in a black shirt and trousers, before the judo master’s constant takedowns makes him throw his shirt off. The sight of a bare chested, black trousered hero facing off against a room full of Japanese masters, marking a clear nod to a similar scene in Bruce Lee’s Fist of Fury.
While audiences are right to expect the series closer to build to a suitable climax, the ending of The General’s Son III finishes much the same as the previous instalments, leaving Doo-han’s adventures with an avenue to continue along. Looking at them in retrospect, personally I feel that the closing scenes of the trilogy are what Kwon-taek intended, regardless of if a fourth outing would be commissioned or not. The early 90’s was a time when the international market was a distant consideration, and Korean movies were very much being made strictly for a Korean audience, with no thought paid to overseas distribution. From that perspective, the domestic demographic would already have been familiar with the life of Doo-han, and would have been content knowing he’d continue on to become a politician.
“Memories of Murder” Korean Theatrical Poster
On a similar note, watching the trilogy today in 2019, the thought of viewing any of the entries as a standalone exercise doesn’t seem appropriate. Each one of The General’s Son movies feels intrinsically linked to the other, and as such feel like they should be viewed as a 5+ hour binge watch, or at least 1 per night. They’re a unique snapshot of early 90’s Korean cinema, at a time when the industry was trying to find its feet again after being repressed for so long. Kwon-taek, or anyone else for that matter, could have no idea that a little over 10 years later movies like OldBoy, Memories of Murder, and A Tale of Two Sisters would kickstart The Korean Wave, which saw the whole world paying attention to its cinematic output. By this time Korean cinema wasn’t just back on its feet, it was running full spring.
But for every mass brawl witnessed in the likes of A Dirty Carnival, The New World, and Gangnam Blues, their blueprints can be traced back to The General’s Son. Kwon-taek himself couldn’t resist revisitng the gangster genre one last time for 2004’s Raging Years (aka Low Life). With a story that follows another rags to riches gangster through the tumultous 15 year period spanning 1957 – 1972, while the time period may be different, in every other way Raging Years feels like a spiritual continuation of The General’s Son series. The trilby hats, leather jackets, and high kicking action is all present and accounted for, and while for all intents and purposes it was a production out of time with where the industry was in the mid-00’s, there can be little doubt that fans of Doo-han’s adventures will find plenty to enjoy.
For the remainder of much of the 90’s though, the influence of The General’s Son saga was inescapable. It’s dynamic high kicking fight scenes became the go-to flavour for Korean action, and many of Korea’s biggest stars today had their careers kicked off through headlining gangster movies, that at some point involved unleashing an array of kicking fury. From the likes of Park Joong-hoon in 1994’s The Rules of the Game, to Jung Woo-sung in 1996’s Born to Kill, to Lee Jung-jae in Fire Bird from the same year. Thanks to Taekowndo being taught at school and a compulsory military service, most of Korea’s young leading men are proficient at throwing a kick, and its 90’s cinema output frequently proved this.
“Born to Kill” Korean Theatrical Poster
The influence wasn’t only limited to the industries fresh faces, with many of the Korean martial arts stars who’d found fame working in the kung-fu genre of the 70’s and 80’s, now turning their attention to how they could transpose their talents to the local gangster scene. While the likes of Dragon Lee, Casanova Wong, and Hwang Jang Lee where all past their high kicking prime by the time the 90’s rolled around, that didn’t prevent them from getting in on the action. Casanova Wong made his final screen appearance, as well as directing, the 1994 gangster flick Bloody Mafia, in which he unleashed his kicks for the last time for our viewing pleasure, while Dragon Lee and Hwang Jang Lee would reunite to work on Emperor of the Underworld (which Hwang also directed) from the same year. Seeing some of the old school kung-fu genres most familiar faces decked out in trilby hats and oversized coats is a pleasure in itself.
For many of us viewers in the west the influence of The General’s Son trilogy on Korea’s gangster genre has largely been an invisible one, mainly thanks to their lack of availability. While Kwon-taek’s seminal works such as Soponje and Jagko have received Blu-ray releases thanks to the stellar work of the Korean Film Archive, for a long time it seemed these pulpy slices of gangster mayhem were destined to receive short thrift. Thankfully that changed in early 2019, when the complete trilogy was given the 4K remastering treatment, and released as a boxset on both Blu-ray and DVD, allowing a new generation to appreciate what can be considered as the original modern Korean gangster flicks. If you’re a fan of Korean cinema and you’ve yet to see them, do yourself a favour and go check them out.
From the producers of Electric Boogaloo: The Wild, Untold Story of Cannon Films and Machete Maidens Unleashed – Exploitation Films Made in the Philippines, comes Serge Ou’s Iron Fists and Kung Fu Kicks, which celebrates the martial arts film sub-genre.
Check out the official details below:
From Hong Kong to Hollywood, the Shaw Brothers to The Matrix, iron fists and kung fu kicks have been busting box offices and breaking barriers since the 1960s. This the wild untold story of how the way of the dragon became a global phenomenon.
On August 6, 2019, Well Go USA will be releasing Lun Xu’s sci-fi comedy How Long Will I Love U to Blu-ray.
A man (Jia Ying Lei) from 1999 and a woman (Li Ya Tong of Wild City) from 2018 have woke up to find their timelines have merged. Now they’re stuck with one another, unless they can work together long enough to find a way back to their normal lives… if destiny will allow it.
Judging from the Trailer (see below), How Long Will I Love U promises to be a romantic take on the time travel sub-genre.
For people like me who’ve been waiting for Jung Doo-hong (Korea’s top fight choreographer) to have another lead role since 2006’s City of Violence, the following news is a big deal (for everyone else, maybe not so much).
Jung Doo-hong (Fighter in the Wind) is back in action with Fist and Furious (formerly known as Heuksan Island), the latest from director Ha Won-joon (Stray Dogs).
Fist and Furious (read our review) also stars Ryu Deok-hwan (The Last Ride), Seo Eun-ah (Tunnel), Jung Ui-kap (Chronicle of a Blood Merchant) and Choi Je-heon (Revenger).
Look out for Fist and Furious in July. For now, here’s the latest Trailer:
At this year’s Anime Expo, Funimation will be screening Kingdom and Tokyo Ghoul S, two Live-action Japanese films based on the popular manga by Yasuhisa Hara and Sui Ishida, respectively.
From director Shinsuke Sato (Gantz) comes Kingdom, which follows a young boy (Kento Yamazaki, Death Note) who dreams of becoming the greatest general of the Qin Kingdom.
Directing duo Takuya Kawasaki and Kazuhiko Hiramaki present Tokyo Ghoul S, the sequel to Tokyo Ghoul, which follows the further adventures of the ghoul-human hybrid, played by Masataka Kubota (Rurouni Kenshin).
Of course, you can expect to see Funimation release both of these films on Blu-ray/DVD at a later date. Visit Anime Expo for more details, which takes place on July 4-7, 2019 (plus Pre-Show Night on July 3) in Los Angeles (via ANN).
These days the vast majority of the movies that Hollywood makes are either franchise sequels and reboots or remakes of successful films from other countries. This has the advantage of giving people more adventures starring characters they know and love, but it can also be creatively stifling and lead to diminishing returns. Some of the remakes are of original Asian movies and we decided to look at a few of the best – as well as some we would all be better forgetting.
The Magnificent Seven
This 1960 movie demonstrated the perfect way of adapting Asian films for a US audience. It is the 1954 Kurusawa classic The Seven Samurai moved to an American western setting. There are clear parallels to be drawn between the Samurai in the culture of Japan and the cowboy in US culture, so nothing about this reimagining says ‘forced’. For that reason and the superb acting from stars like Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen it is almost as fondly regarded by US audiences as the original is with Japanese film fans.
Godzilla
If the Magnificent Seven showed how to get Asian movie adaptations right, then the various remakes of the 1954 Japanese movie Godzilla demonstrated how to make a complete mess of them. Firstly Hollywood took the Japanese film called Return of Godzilla and hacked it to pieces to create Godzilla 1985, ruining the story, then it went on to make two duff remakes of the original in 1998 and 2014. By the time of the last one, Hollywood’s fixation with sequels was in full force, and thus inevitably we were forced to endure a follow up!
The Departed
Martin Scorsese looked to Asia for inspiration in 2006, adapting a 2002 movie called Infernal Affairs by Andrew Lau. The plot of two undercover agents trying to identify one another and stay alive remained the same, but Scorsese moved the action from Asia to Boston. He kept all of the violent action and themes of each of these two moles being mirror images of the other, but also managed to draw a performance from Jack Nicholson as Frank Costello that was even more memorable than that of Eric Tsang in the first film.
Oldboy
The 2003 original by Park Chan-Wook is considered a classic by fans of horror movies, whereas the 2013 remake by Spike Lee is considered a horror by fans of classic movies. The almost total lack of subtlety in Lee’s version is amazing for such a gifted director, but he removed most of the psychological horror from its tale of a man seeking revenge for 20 years in solitary confinement and relied on heavy doses violence and gore. That made for a clumsy and unnecessary remake.
Hollywood has shown that it can adapt Asian films in a way that keeps the best elements and sometimes even adds intriguing new ones. Unfortunately, at other times, the adaptations have been driven by laziness and money.
The film stars Eddy Ko (The Mission), Lam Ching-Ying (Eastern Condors), Ma Ying-Chun (Goodbye Mammie), Cecile Le Bailly and Philllip Loffredo.
In Heroes Shed No Tears, the Thai government hires a group of Chinese mercenaries to capture a powerful drug lord from the Golden Triangle. The mercenaries manage to capture the drug lord, but soon find themselves pursued by his forces, and the forces of a bitter Thai officer. The Chinese mercenaries are vastly outnumbered, and as their numbers begin to dwindle, their desperation pulls them into a corner as their enemies close in on them.
Special Features:
New 2K Remaster
Interview with star Eddy Ko
New essay by author, film programmer, and Asian film expert Grady Hendrix
“A Record of Sweet Murder” Japanese Theatrical Poster
Director: Koji Shiraishi Writer: Koji Shiraishi Cast: Kim Kkobbi, Yeon Je-Wook, Ryotaro Yonemura, Tsukasa Aoi, Yeo Min-Jung, Koji Shiraishi Running Time: 86 min.
By Paul Bramhall
Japanese director Koji Shiraishi had, for a long time, carved out a niche for himself as the guy who makes grimy found-footage/docu-horror flicks. The likes of 2005’s Noroi: The Curse, 2009’s Occult, and 2011’s Cho Akunin, all feature some kind of first person perspective revolving around the supernatural or unpleasant endeavours. He’s also ventured outside of the format, with the likes of 2007’s The Slit Mouthed Woman and 2009’s Grotesque (which remains banned in the UK), and perhaps none more so than with 2016’s Sadako vs. Kayako, which saw his first foray into mainstream horror filmmaking. Adapting what originally started out as an April Fool’s joke, the concept of pitting the vengeful spirits from the Ring and Ju-On franchises proved too much of a temptation to resist, and Shiraishi has yet to return to his low budget horror roots since.
However before he entered the mainstream fray, his last movie before making Sadako vs. Kayako remained firmly in the found footage genre, with A Record of Sweet Murder. Made in 2014, the production is a unique entry in Shiraishi’s filmography, as it takes the form of a co-production with Korea. Co-productions between Japan and Korea tend to be as rare as hen’s teeth (does anyone remember Seoul?), mainly due to tensions between the 2 countries, so to see a collaboration such as this one is almost enough to warrant a viewing in and of itself.
The Korean investment sees A Record of Sweet Murder set in a downtrodden suburb of Seoul, with its 2 leads also cast as Koreans. Indie actress Kim Kkobbi, who first came on the radar with her outstanding performance alongside Yang Ik-june in his semi-autobiographical Breathless in 2008, here plays a journalist who’s been contacted by a childhood friend. One who just so happens to have escaped from a mental institution and killed 18 people. The childhood friend is played by Yeon Je-wook (The Witness), and his reaching out to Kkobbi comes with a strange condition – he wants to give her an exclusive, and requests she come to the fifth floor of an abandoned apartment block with a Japanese cameraman, and promise that no matter what happens they won’t stop filming.
Kkobbi duly obliges, despite having many questions (one of them being why the cameraman specifically needs to be Japanese), and the pair are soon met by a slightly manic Je-wook outside the apartment, wielding a knife and threatening to kill them if they dare stop filming at any point. It’s soon revealed through a confession that he’s actually killed 25, and that the voice of God he’s been hearing in his head requires him to kill 27. After murdering all 27 victims, he believes that both him and Kkobbi’s childhood friend who was killed in a hit and run many years ago, will be undone. However for his last 2 victims, Je-wook reveals that God has given him specific instructions that they need to be Japanese, and show “the power of love”.
It’s an intriguing premise, and one which comes with an even more intriguing execution. When A Memory of Sweet Murder opens we’re already seeing things from the perspective of the Japanese cameraman who, in a stroke of ingenuity, is played by Shiraishi himself. This results in the director occasionally appearing on camera in a rare acting (if you could call it that) role, however the boldest move that A Memory of Sweet Murder has up its sleeve, is that for 80 of its 86 minute runtime, it plays out as one uninterrupted single take shot.
One can only imagine what kind of logistical challenge this must have presented (and how many takes it must have taken!), and understandably the majority of the runtime is limited to the main room of the abandoned apartment that Kkobbi, Je-wook, and Shiraishi find themselves in. There are only 4 other actors throughout the whole of the single take, 2 a pair of victims that Je-wook reveals he already captured, and we glimpse briefly in another room, and the other 2 a loved up Japanese couple who stumble across the trio on their way to the rooftop.
The couple are played by Ryotaro Yonemura and Tsukasa Aoi (also their characters names), and are A Memory of Sweet Murder’s biggest detriment. Yonemura, who’s had minor roles in the likes of Sono Sion’s The Land of Hope, hams up his characters Yakuza style machismo to the point that it comes across like a gurning contest. His brash character is able to turn the tables on Je-wook’s unstable psycho, however his overly pronounced rolling of every ‘r’, and wild eyed ranting, quickly begins to overstay its welcome. As for Aoi, when you cast an AV (Adult Video – for those wondering) actress in a movie, you know they’re only there for one reason. Aoi’s closest claim to mainstream fame is likely appearing as a sexed up version of Sailor Moon, in the Chapman To starring comedy Naked Ambition 2, from 2014 (she also featured in 2014’s God Tongue Kiss Pressure Game: The Movie, in her native Japan. Don’t ask.).
Je-wook’s sexual assault of a bound Aoi, played out while Yonemura excitedly watches on, claiming she’s always fantasised of such a scenario, adds little to the plot, nor does the subsequent sex scene between the pair, when Aoi reveals to Yonemura that the experience turned her on so much she needs to do it again. The confined environment that these scenes play out in leave Kkobbi awkwardly stood in the corner of the room, doing her best to maintain a constant expression of fear, while also feeling distinctly adrift in a movie which she’s actually the star of. What can’t be denied though, is that the brief excursion into kinky sex marks A Record of Sweet Murder as an unmistakably Japanese product, despite both the Korean setting and performers.
There’s no mistaking that Shiraishi’s last venture into the found footage genre is a low budget affair, which sometimes makes it feel like an endurance test, while other times you’re left marvelling at his technical prowess. The whole one take setup means that there’s occasional lags. From the moment the movie opens, and Kkobbi points out that the building in the distance is the one where Je-wook wants to meet, the whole walk up to the building (and then up five flights of stairs!) makes you appreciate the importance of editing. However when things begin to go pear shaped, and exchanges start to get violent and bloody, Shiraishi’s use of the camera to effectively convey impacts and contact within a very limited space can only be called admirable.
Indeed in many ways A Record of Sweet Murder is one of those unique entries into the world of cinema, that when you’re watching it you may not necessarily be enjoying that much, but as the credits roll you realise just how invested you were. As the music rolled over the end credits, it was only then that it struck me that there hadn’t been a single piece of music for the almost 90 minute duration, however I’d still been kept glued to the screen regardless. As undeniably rough around the edges as it is, there’s a talent at work which isn’t immediately apparent on the first watch, but a number of small nuanced touches between the yelling and depravity are there for the observant viewer.
In the closing minutes events take a decidedly unexpected turn. For all of the arduous and gruelling events that have transpired over the last 80 minutes, Shiraishi has a trick up his sleeve that’s both imaginative and cathartic. It’s a bold move, and a welcome one, as it acknowledges that as the audience we’ve also been experiencing first-hand the horrors that both Kkobbi and Shiraishi (in his cameraman guise) have had to endure for over an hour. Realising that we need some kind of payoff for getting as far as we have, as an audience we’re duly rewarded. I’ll be honest and say that, while many may see the ending coming from a mile away, I found myself satisfied with the outcome that it presented, and it immediately put a certain level of previously unseen context around everything we’ve just been through. Based on this, for those looking for something a little different, A Record of Sweet Murder may just fit the bill.
In the 1980s, a phenomenon now known as the “ninja craze” was born, thanks equally to 1980’s The Octagon and 1981’s Enter the Ninja.
At the time, this “ninja craze” made perfect sense. After all, ninjas seemed more menacing than Bruce Lee; their stealthy uniforms were stylish and slick when compared to a Karate Gi; they had an array of innovative weapons that were far more interesting than anything seen in the average kung fu film; and they made Chuck Norris appear non-threatening and out-of-style. To put it simply, the word “ninja” became a hip, household name.
Additionally, the ninjas became so popular that they graced the cover of just about every martial arts magazine ever made (at one point, a magazine simply called “Ninja” was published). Of course, all these magazines would run a full page, full color advertisement that looked like this.
The straight-to-video ones with the shiny, glittery VHS covers that dominated the “Martial Arts” section of video rental stores (the “Bruceploitaton” of ninja films, if you will). They usually starred Caucasian actors – including B-movie legend, Richard Harrison and Stuart Onslow-Smith (both pictured here) – in colorful ninja uniforms. The guys even wore tacky headbands that literally had the word “ninja” printed on them.
The illustrated box art on these ninja movies promised you big explosions, helicopter fights and cool looking motorcycles with rocket launchers; but when you finally pressed play, all that appeared on the screen were sloppy, low budget, cut-and-paste (and spliced) movies that were so ridiculous, you couldn’t help but watch. To fans of the martial arts genre, this string of ninja movies became known as the “Godrey Ho Ninja flicks” – or technically speaking – a production by Joseph Lai’s IFD Films, a company responsible for releasing hundreds of low budget Chinese films. When these films were imported to America, by way of Trans World Entertainment, a brief intro by Sho Kosugi was filmed to give these films some ninja-credibility.
If you’re familiar with IFD Films/”Godrey Ho Ninja flicks”, then you’ll enjoy the mini-documentary below, which features a rare, insightful interview with actor Stuart Onslow-Smith (Ninja Destroyer), who after Richard Harrison, is one of the most iconic figures seen in this odd chapter of the ninja film genre. Enjoy!
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is still one of the most successful martial arts films ever made, and lives long in the memory of fans of the genre. The Chinese picture was made on a US$17 million budget but went onto gross $213 million worldwide in 2000. The Ang Lee-directed action epic was also nominated for ten Academy Awards and won four. It was somewhat surprising that it took sixteen years for someone to make a sequel of the film that was adapted from Wang Dulu’s Crane-Iron series of novels.
In 2016, it was Netflix that decided to make a new instalment in the film series when the streaming service released Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: Sword of Destiny directly to the platform. This was based on the book, Iron Knight, Silver Vase, which was the last in Wang’s saga. Despite having the same name as the original, the Netflix production was lacking the same quality. It only featured Michelle Yeoh from the first film and had a mainly new cast headed by Donnie Yen. Lee was replaced in the director’s chair by Yuen Woo-Ping, and Zhang Ziyi said that she would only appear in a sequel if it was alongside the renowned Taiwanese filmmaker.
If Netflix decides to follow up on the Sword of Destiny with another instalment in the series, there is potential to make films based on Wang’s earlier novels. These could act as prequels to the two existing pictures. It does seem as though there is a gap in the market for more martial arts content on Netflix. The genre is highly popular in other aspects of western culture, especially games. Netbet is home to a number of ninja-themed slots, and when players play on the Japanese online casino they are faced with options like Golden Tiger and Dragon Chase Rapid. These themes have also been prevalent in the mobile gaming industry, with titles like Fruit Ninja and Ninja Jump both hugely popular.
The stumbling block for Netflix would be the fact that Sword of Destiny wasn’t well received. If the service was to revisit the franchise, there would almost certainly have to be an overhaul in the writing, directing, and acting departments. Viewers are hungry for martial arts content, but they don’t want it to be substandard. Sword of Destiny only has a score of 19 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, while the original is rated at 97 percent. Perhaps if Netflix was able to coax Lee back for a third film then some of the original cast members including Chow Yun-fat would be interested in reprising their roles.
Ever since Netflix ventured into making its own films, the titles have been a bit hit or miss. There has been the odd gem, such as Alex Garland’s Annihilation. However, Sword of Destiny would be included in the massive pile of misses. Netflix should attempt to redeem itself by releasing another Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon film. This time, though, it should stay true to the original and include some of the people that made it so successful.
AFS describes this Xu Jie and Ma Zhong Xuan-directed film as a “wartime thriller”. Unfortunately, further details are still pending.
For now, Zhao has his hands full with a number of upcoming projects, including the anticipated Fearless series. And Zhang fans have the long-awaited Assassins and the Missing Goldto look forward to.
We’ll keep you updated on this project as we learn more.
MMAC reports that Uwais will play a man who must fight through the gangland of New York to save his family after the disappearance of his son during a gang killings spree.
In addition to starring, Uwais will produce alongside Gianni Nunnari (300, From Dust ’til Dawn) and Ricky Siahaan off a script by Yalun Tu, writer of the upcoming Wu Assassins (also starring Uwais).
A director for Chinatown Express is still pending. Stay tuned!
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While today many would consider the Korean film industries output to be some of the best in the world, it wasn’t always this way. Just 30 years ago, Korean cinema was in crisis, going through what could easily be argued to be one of its darkest periods. To fully understand why, it’s important to consider the situation the country was in at the time.
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