While I can definitively say that Jackie Chan introduced me to Hong Kong/Chinese cinema and that Godzilla opened the door for me to the world of Japanese cinema, it’s a little harder to remember where my appreciation for Korean film began. That’s interesting because I didn’t get into Korean movies until the last decade or so, whereas my interest in HK and Japanese film began much earlier. I think, unlike Japan and Hong Kong, South Korean cinema entered my film viewing habits around the time that Netflix went big. Netflix, for all the crap it gets (some deserved, some not), introduced us to many movies we normally would’ve never had the chance to see thanks to its DVD and streaming services. I am sure that, like many, Oldboy was among the first Korean films that I watched and loved. But I don’t believe that started me down a path of seeking out other Korean cinema. Well, thanks to Netflix’s “You rated this title on this date” feature, I know that I watched a lot of Korean thrillers in the summer of 2007. A few in particular stand out to me now as films that made me go, “hey, what else has this director done?” and in doing so helped me realize that something special was happening in the South Korean film industry.

Bong Joon-ho’s Memories of Murder is a stone-cold masterpiece. I can distinctly remember streaming that from the Netflix app on my Nintendo Wii (yes, Wii!). I bought the DVD that same week, because I had to make the movie mine. It’s a beautiful looking thriller, surprisingly funny, uncompromising in its depiction of human cruelty, and full of plot twists. By the end of the film, I knew I was a fan of Bong Joon-ho and Song Kang-ho – I would see The Host for the first time that same month in 2007, which only cemented my appreciation for both artists (I think I originally watched Memories of Murder because I was so hyped for The Host, actually). As years went on, both Bong and Song continued to make great films, but I still look back on Memories of Murder as their best work, collaboratively or otherwise. Like a Korean Coen Bros. film in its use of humor and darkness. I still maintain that the final scene is one of the best endings ever.

“The Host” Korean Theatrical Poster

Though today I tend to believe that Oldboy is Park Chan-wook’s best work, for the longest time I was a big fan of Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and that started in 2007, too. It’s this strange tale of revenge and desperation where I feel for almost everyone involved, even as they commit some reprehensible acts. One of the things about revenge movies that I struggle to get behind is that the movies often ask us to accept that dozens have to die in order to appease this one person’s quest for vengeance. Harry Brown is a gross movie. Taken is ugly as hell. 2018’s Death Wish? Shiiiiiit. But Park’s Vengeance Trilogy (Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Oldboy, Lady Vengeance) depicts revenge as a messy affair. Too many bodies are buried before the end, many of them undeserving of death. And salvation is hard to attain when there are often darker truths lurking beneath the surface. What I like about Park’s revenge movie protagonists is that they often upset and shock us, instead of just being badasses casually expecting our approval. It’s often said that South Korea makes the sort of adult genre entertainment that Hollywood used to make. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen an American film like Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, though.

I don’t know for certain which film I saw first, but I know director Kim Ki-duk was another filmmaker whose work I fell for early on. 3-Iron is a super stylish film. Samaritan Girl and The Bow are both unsettling yet strangely beautiful. And Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring is the work of a master. Kim pisses me off very much with some of the content he’s willing to put on screen. He’s not a director I am willing to watch any day of the week. But my goodness. He’s like an even moodier Takeshi Kitano. If Bong was my introduction to South Korean genre movies and Park was my intro to the dark thrillers, then Kim’s movies were my first taste of Korean arthouse cinema.

As I said, I don’t have as clear of a recollection of any ‘experience’ that opened the door to Korean cinema. But these movies were some of the first that I saw that convinced me I needed to see more. Joon-ho remains my #1 filmmaker from that part of the world and I eagerly await whatever he’s up to next. Just give Bong all the money for whatever big movie sandbox he wants to play in, I’m sure it’ll be great.

Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part I
Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part II
Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part IV

As a young kid of 18, I used to watch a British Television film review programme, then presented by Johnathan Ross. A major advocate of Eastern cinema, Ross is a larger than life character with an abundance of knowledge of especially Asian action movies. At the end of one programme there was a clip of the South Korean film Nowhere to Hide, featuring two characters fighting in the pouring rain, with a magnetic aesthetic and wholly different style than I had experienced before. I sat up, and took notice. This was my first exposure to South Korean cinema.

“Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance” Korean Theatrical Poster

From then, come my early 20’s, I caught Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. I had read some about the movie, and it seemed interesting, so I checked it out. While a little impenetrable, the style and atmospheric approach made an impression on me, as well as the unusual narrative. Come Edinburgh Film Festival in 2004, I heard that the second film in the trilogy was to be screened, with director Park Chan-Wook in attendance. For some silly reason I didn’t attend, and regret it to this day, as the film was Oldboy. About half a year later I settled down to watch the film on DVD, and by this point the buzz and great reviews for the film had reached fever pitch. I was completely knocked out, to the extent that it has maintained a place in my top ten ever since, and whenever I revisit the film it retains power and nuance to the point that I love it more every time.

The legacy of Oldboy is plain to see, with the explosion of Korean cinema coming in its wake, and making Park Chan-Wook one of the most recognisable directors on the international film scene. What struck me about the film most is its constant visual inventiveness; at the time I was soaking up classic Hong Kong cinema, which for me is the greatest in these terms ever made. Of course the Korean new wave’s biggest influence was this cinema, and it is reflected but refracted through the Korean gaze, nowhere more evident than in Oldboy. Every shot in the film has a surreal, beautifully strange quality and creates an all-encompassing world, one that involves a more dream-like and operatic but low key feel than a lot of Hong Kong cinema.

Two other aspects stand out for me too: Choi Min Sik’s performance and, of course, that fight scene. I had never seen a fight so raw, brutal and relentless. I would wager that Park was very influenced by the fights in the Hong Kong Heroic Bloodshed genre, with their realism and unnerving violence, but Oldboy took this to another level – so spellbinding is that sequence! Choi’s commitment to the film and his characters suffering (of which there is a lot) is so impactful and thought provoking that it rates as one of the finest in the history of cinema. I caught the new documentary about the film Old Days, and was taken in by Choi’s openness and candid conversation when discussing making the film and how hard it was, especially the fight scene of course. Supposed to be an extra on the forthcoming Blu-ray release, the documentary is now a stand alone film. Any fan of Oldboy should check it out.

Oldboy is the kind of film that has made such an impact on the public consciousness that a lot of people have seen, or at least know of, the film. For me, like Project A and Sword of Doom, it opened up a nations cinema that has consistently since Oldboy’s release produced many classics of the modern age, to the point that arguably (and in my mind definitely) they are the best in international cinema. Parks last in the Trilogy, Lady Vengeance, while a step down is still a disturbing and vital film. Even lesser Chan-Wook films such as Thirst blew me away.

“Sympathy for Lady Vengeance” Korean Theatrical Poster

The next Korean film I saw in the cinema was Kim Jee-Woon’s A Bittersweet Life, which breathed new life in to the Asian gangster film, and remains quintessential. His I Saw the Devil is my 2nd favourite South Korean film. The best of this nations cinema create new narratives and moral compasses from old genre tropes, and the two films that are greatest at this for me are Oldboy and I Saw the Devil. Both use the revenge story and twist the themes and characterisations to create a modern, complex palette of conflicting morality, one that is without the centralised and predictable way of Hollywood films of the last so many years. In a South Korean film it is difficult to predict what will happen, and which character and narrative resolution there will be, something which went out in Hollywood, with some exceptions, come the 1980’s.

That this renaissance in South Korean film, began by Oldboy, is still going strong some 15 years later is remarkable. New classics such as The Wailing and The Handmaiden prove the breath of fresh air created by that early Noughties surge is alive and kicking. In fact I recently watched Lee Chang-Dong’s Green Fish, which predates Oldboy by some 6 years and is one of the first Korean Noir films, and was struck by its originality and relevance even now. It took me till about 2008 to finally catch Nowhere to Hide, and its new style of action and stylistic power impressed me. This of course led to my love of Korean action cinema, such as the films of Ryoo Seung-Wan (Veteran, City of Violence, The Berlin File), and an admiration for their choreographal style which is influenced by, but very different from, classic Hong Kong stuff. Even a movie as dark and disturbing as I Saw the Devil leaves room for brilliantly staged fights, a combination which I fucking adore.

As South Korean cinema maintains its lofty position, it will be interesting to see what occurs in the coming years; that’s almost two decades in which there have been many classics, but whether any can match the pure adrenalin shot of Oldboy remains to be seen.

Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part I
Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part III
Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part IV

The irony isn’t lost on me that, considering I now devour more Korean cinema than any other countries output, unlike Hong Kong and Japan my first taste of it didn’t have me hook, line, and sinker. If anything, my introduction to the world of Korean cinema left me equal parts perplexed, but with an unshakable feeling that I wanted to see more. Looking back now I think I know why. While I’d gotten into Hong Kong and Japanese cinema when their Golden Era’s had already long past, leaving a seemingly unlimited back catalogue to explore, in the case of Korea my first taste came just as it was on the cusp of entering into its own Golden Era (or in other words – what would popularly become known as ‘The Korean Wave’).

Fox Lorber’s John Woo 2-Pack VHS Cover

The funny this is, I’d often waxed lyrical about how fantastic it must have been to have experienced the classics of Hong Kong and Japan at the time they actually came out. Now in 2018, I understand that identifying a countries output as its Golden Era is something that can only be done from the viewpoint of looking back, and is rarely something that can be labelled in the present moment. With the benefit of hindsight, I would say the 15 years spanning 1999 – 2014 were Korea’s Golden Era, and they were years that I was lucky enough to be around for the same way I’d wished I was around for Hong Kong and Japans.

However when I viewed my first Korean movie back in 2001, I somehow felt that I’d been a victim of false advertising. At the time I’d been devouring Hong Kong action cinema like it was going out of fashion, and one of my most revisited purchases was a 2-DVD box set released by Fox Lorber of John Woo movies, which I’d imported from the States. The movies in question of course, were The Killer and Hard Boiled, and as an introduction to John Woo, it was impossible to beat (I’d spend several of the following years attempting to track down new copies of the Criterion releases of both titles, but that story is for another time).

So you can likely imagine my delight, when local UK distributor Tartan Video added a title to their slate, that came with a cover proudly announcing – “A SURE-FIRE HIT FOR FANS OF ‘HARD BOILED’” and “IS HOLLYWOOD READY FOR THE NEXT JOHN WOO?” I didn’t care if Hollywood was ready or not, but I certainly was, and the image of 2 men brawling in a torrential downpour, which the quotes were splattered over, only sealed the deal. The movie in question was Nowhere to Hide, and despite its 2001 DVD release in the UK, it was actually made a couple of years prior, in 1999.

“Nowhere to Hide” Korean Theatrical Poster

It’s safe to say that I didn’t think Nowhere to Hide was anything like a John Woo movie, however despite not delivering on the sleeves promises, it left an impression that set me on the path to being a lifelong fan of Korea’s output. Regardless of the misguided expectations, even at the time I knew the opening 8 minutes were something special, and it’s an opening which I still class as one of the greatest even to this day.

While the initial scene gets plenty of attention, which has Ahn Sung-ki (who doesn’t have a single line) assassinating Song Young-chan on a rain soaked set of stairs, set to the Bee Gees ‘Holiday’ (and even inspired a Giordano commercial starring Jeon Ji-hyun), it only gets better from there. As the credits appear onscreen we follow Park Joong-hoon’s dungaree adorned cop, sporting possibly the most distinctive swagger ever put on film, as he gate crashes a gangsters beat-down, all set to punk band Cherry Filter’s rendition of the trot song ‘Hae Ddeul Nal’. Joined by then new face on the block Jang Dong-gun, what follows is a monochrome assault on the senses of flashy editing techniques and electrifying sound design, incorporating slow-motion, jump cuts, step-printing, still frames, and just about anything else you can name. Anyone who watches the opening to Nowhere to Hide, isn’t likely to ever forget it.

Hearing the distinctive Korean tone and intonation for the first time also set it apart from anything I’d watched previously, and combined with the unique aesthetic, there was something unmistakably alluring about this newfound world of cinema. However finding other titles to explore Korea’s output wasn’t so easy back at the start of the millennium, with 2003 being the year that really opened up the floodgates for much of Korea’s output (thanks to the likes of Park Chan-wook’s OldBoy, Kim Jee-woon’s A Tale of Two Sisters, and Bong Joon-ho’s Memories of Murder). Even Shiri, another movie from 1999 that was largely credited as Korea’s international breakthrough, didn’t get a release in the UK until 2003, also by Tartan Video.

So for close to 2 years, while there seemed to be an unlimited number of Hong Kong and Japanese movies to watch, I found myself barely watching more than a handful of other Korean productions. Thankfully 15 years on it’s very much a different story, with the Korean Film Archive actively releasing plenty of material from the pre-1999 era (indeed for anyone that got into Korean cinema in the early 00’s, you could be mistaken for thinking the industry didn’t exist before 1999), giving the countries rich cinematic history the exposure it deserves.

“Two Cops” Korean Theatrical Poster

It took around 10 years for me to watch Nowhere to Hide again, then fully aware of who the actors are. Little did I know in 2001 that both Park Joong-hoon and Ahn Sung-ki had already made a couple of movies together – Chilsu and Mansu from 1988, and Two Cops from 1993. After Nowhere to Hide they’d go onto to feature in 2006’s Radio Star, and Sung-ki had a cameo appearance in Joong-hoon’s 2013 directorial debut Top Star. It made me enjoy Nowhere to Hide even more, and appreciate many of director Lee Myung-se’s visual perks that perhaps I didn’t fully absorb at the time, because I was constantly waiting for some double handgun action to explode off the screen. I think Nowhere to Hide is probably the first usage of CGI blood in an Asian production, and the end fight in the rain soaked abandoned coal field remains one of the most visually striking finales put on film.

For the Korean Film Festival in Australia in 2014, Park Joong-hoon was flown in as the special guest, there to introduce Top Star. I still remember seeing him in a bar during a rare quiet moment, and every instinct in my body wanted to ask him for a photo, the plan being to recreate the iconic scene in which he and Ahn Sung-ki punch each other in the face at the same time (yes, I was going to be audacious enough to be Ahn Sung-ki). However nerves got the best of me, and I never went through with it, not even a standard lame selfie. Still one of my life’s regrets.

Ahn Sung-ki and Park Joong-hoon in “Chilsu and Mansu”

While both Ahn Sung-ki and Park Joong-hoon remain active in the Korean film industry, with close to a century of work between them, director Myung-se unfortunately hasn’t been as lucky. While he gave his unique visual style to both The Duelist in 2005 (which also featured Ahn Sung-ki) and M in 2007, what was set to be a spy caper set for a 2013 release titled Mister K found him at loggerheads with the production company, at a time when they were already in the midst of filming in Thailand. Stating irreconcilable differences, Myung-se left the production, leaving the studio scrambling for a replacement director, which eventually came in the form of frequent assistant director Lee Seung-joon. Mister K was eventually released as The Spy, and was met with almost universal disdain. Myung-se hasn’t worked since the incident, marking a real loss to the industry.

Regardless of all that’s happened since its release, I’m sure there are other fans of Korean cinema out there whose love affair with the industry started with Nowhere to Hide. In the UK at least, it was the first legitimate Korean title to get distribution by a well-known label, and while Shiri tends to take all the glory for giving Korean cinema its international breakthrough, out of the 2 it’s Nowhere to Hide that I find more frequently going into the DVD player. It’s one of those titles which has yet to make it to Blu-ray, however when it does, you can count me in for a first day purchase.

Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part II
Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part III
Read First Experiences of Asian Cinema: Korea Edition Part IV