Director: Kim Tae-Yong
Writer: Kim Tae-Yong
Cast: Kim Ha-Neul, Yu In-Young, Lee Won-Geun, Lee Hee-Joon, Lee Ki-Woo, Gi Ju-Bong, Jung Suk-Yong, Hong Ahn-Pyo, Lim Hwa-Young, Kwon Soo-Hyun
Running Time: 96 min.
By Paul Bramhall
There can be no more tried and tested plot device within the world of Korean drama’s than the love triangle. In a way it’s understandable, the kind of relationship dynamic it invokes provides a framework in which it’s possible to explore a multitude of genres. Romance, revenge, murder, thriller, mystery – you name it, with a smart script the mileage filmmakers can get is almost unlimited. That’s why for every conventional story that hits the screens, with no further ambition than to pull on our heartstrings, movies like Yoo Ha’s A Frozen Flower and Park Chan-wook’s The Handmaiden prove that it’s still possible to do amazing things when done right.
The latest spin on the trope comes in the form of director Kim Tae-yong’s Misbehavior. After working on a number of short films, Misbehavior marks Tae-yong’s sophomore full length feature, following 2014’s semi-autobiographical Set Me Free. The dark themes he explored in his debut are also apparent in his latest, however Misbehavior feels much more accessible than his previous work, thanks to a more linear plot and performances from a stellar cast.
Taking place in a boys only high school, Kim Ha-neul (My Girlfriend is an Agent) plays an aloof but competent contract teacher, who’s next in line to be offered a permanent position once the new school year starts. However a spanner is thrown in the works, when the principal of the school hires a fresh faced young teacher straight into a permanent position, despite her lack of experience. Played by Yoo In-young (Veteran), it soon becomes apparent that the reason behind her fast-track to tenure has to do with her father being the chairman of the board. Ha-neul’s frustration is escalated further when In-young recognizes her as a senior from the same college they used to attend, which leads to her constantly trying to strike up an unwanted friendship, much to Ha-neul’s chagrin.
The stress of contract workers seeking job security through being made permanent is a pertinent one in Korean society, and has most recently also been explored in Hong Won-chan’s Office, which as the name suggests, transposes the scenario to an office environment. There are similarities to be found between Misbehavior and Office, particularly the usage of a newly hired staff member posing a threat to the long-term temporary employee, however thankfully that’s where the comparisons end. While Office took shape as a murder-mystery, Tae-yong takes the narrative in an interestingly different direction, thanks to the introduction of a hard-up but handsome student in the form of Lee Won-geun (The Net).
An aspiring dancer, Won-geun spends his nights practicing, and often sleeping, in the school sports hall. When Ha-neul finds him there one evening, as much as his story is a sympathetic one, it also becomes clear that he’s very much aware of his good looks, and isn’t afraid to use them. A fact which is reinforced when she discovers In-young and Won-geun are using the late evenings for some extra-curricular activities, the sort that definitely aren’t related to dancing. The discovery leads to a series of increasingly tense and dangerous liaisons between the two teachers, while it remains intentionally hazy to if Won-geun is an unwitting pawn to their games, reaping the benefits of them, or perhaps a combination of both.
It’s the dynamics that the revelation triggers that serve to drive the momentum in Misbehavior, and Tae-yong keeps things simmering with a skilled hand. Once Ha-neul knows she has the upper hand on In-young, the choices her character makes may be unpleasant ones, but the sense of unfairness she feels means that as an audience we understand them, and perhaps even relate to them. It’s this element which makes Misbehavior equal parts rewarding and painful to watch, as the fact that it’s so easy to relate to Ha-neul’s actions speak to the basest of human emotions. She’s soon berating In-young in front of the other teachers for the shortness of her dress, and openly stating she has no recollection of going to college with her, spoken with an underlying smugness of someone that knows there’ll be no comeback.
The fact is none of the trio of protagonists are particularly likeable, but to varying degrees they remain relatable. In-young represents everything Ha-neul doesn’t have. Born into financial security, with youth on her side and a trophy husband (Lee Ki-woo, Time Renegades) on her arm, in comparison Ha-neul feels the burden of being in her late-30s, trapped in an apartment with her penniless writer boyfriend (Lee Hee-joon, Sea Fog), who’s suffering from an extended period of writer’s block. Ultimately the pressure she faces both inside and outside the workplace send her down a path which proves difficult to turn back from.
As the linchpin between the pair, Won-geun delivers an effective performance. In the grand scheme of things he has the least to lose, and although he doesn’t show it, gradually a side begins to show reflecting someone far more manipulative than he first seems. Where Won-geun’s performance falters slightly, is in the selling of his sexuality. In an interview, Tae-yong explained that initially the script had more explicit sex scenes, however Ha-neul expressed the opinion that they’d detract from the story, so should be toned down. It’s speculation on my part, however I’d say that having an established star like Ha-neul onboard was a big draw for Tae-yong, so he was likely reluctant to disagree.
In reality, the narrative would have benefitted by putting a little more impact into the couple of scenes Ha-neul was referring to. Much like Ang Lee’s masterpiece Lust, Caution, Misbehavior is a tale in which sex is used both to manipulate and gain the upper hand. Won-geun stated that this production was his first time to be involved in such scenes, and unfortunately it shows, with the crucial moments coming across as rather flat and awkward, rather than the pulse racing moments of intensity they’re supposed to be. While these scenes belie the confidence of his character when he’s fully clothed, the damage they do overall is minimal, but ultimately you can’t help but feel that a potentially great movie has come out as just a good one.
Thankfully Tae-yong doesn’t compromise on the outcome that events lead up to, delivering a finale that’s as surprising as it is shocking. By the end of Misbehavior the audience may not have sided with any one of the main characters over the others, however there’s a good chance that opinions will be divided as to where their sympathy lies. Indeed despite it being basic human emotions that serve as the driver behind everything, the underlying enemy is the ruthless Korean hierarchy system that exists in the workplace, a culture which consistently places influence over capability. It’s easy to argue that if Misbehavior had taken place anywhere else, perhaps Ha-neul and In-young would have been friends.
Tae-yong’s latest continues to show his talent for capturing the darker nuances of the human psyche, and is by far his most accomplished work to date, in some ways representing the antithesis of the kind of scenarios found in a Hong Sang-soo movie. These type of mid-budget productions frequently get lost in the mix when it comes to Korean cinema, so here’s hoping we see more movies like Misbehavior, that show it’s still possible to pack a punch and not be derivative of a more popular larger production. It may not involve any hammers or frantic stabbing, but when you’re dealing with a teacher scorned, the outcome is certainly no less brutal. For those looking for something a little different from Korean cinema, Misbehavior comes strongly recommended.
Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7/10
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