[K-FILM REVIEWS] 청연 (Blue Swallow) Limited Edition - Part 1
가장 행복하고 달콤했던 순간들 하늘로 비상할 때였노라...
(My happiest, sweetest moments were when I was flying in the sky)
박경원 - Park Kyung-Won, Korea's First Female Aviator
Whether you do it for a living or simply for fun like us, reviewing films can often be quite a peculiar 'occupation'. When I went back to rewatch last year's fantastic 부활 (Rebirth) in its Director's Cut DVD incarnation, I was feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Would I still like it as much as I did back in November, when I reviewed it the first time? Would the experience of watching the show all at once, in a 7 to 10 days span, create different feelings than the two episodes per week experience when I was watching it live? And, most importantly, would knowing the entire plot, all the emotional cues and stylistic touches have an effect on me? Back then, it worked like magic.
The show was just as good as the first time I watched it, and I was able to focus on the little details, pay more attention to the dialogue, all the hints planted at the beginning which you tend to forget when you're taken by the flow of the show, by the excitement of waiting for the following week's episodes. With films, although there are no episodes to wait for, the sentiment is similar. Less than two months ago I reviewed Yoon Jong-Chan's marvelous 청연 (Blue Swallow) giving it very high marks. It left a big impression on me, just like last year's 남극일기 (Antarctic Journal), which this film shares something in common with: a disarmingly powerful finale. Back then I didn't have the usual 'burden' of extra features, which many times can be quite fun to cover, but on certain occasions just become a truck on your shoulders you can't seem to get rid of. This time, since I said already I wouldn't re-review the film unless big changes occurred, the situation was the complete opposite: no film review to write, more time to focus on the Special Features, which on many occasions can change the balance (even adding or taking off a half point sometimes) because they help you understand the film a little better. So, did my feelings for this film change?
Not in the slightest bit.
Blue Swallow is not perfect. If this were an Hollywood product, certain little technical problems at the beginning would have been taken care of, like some of the awkward initial flight scenes, when you can pinpoint when the blue screen was in and when stuntmen were flying. Of course it's not a big problem, but it's there, you'll probably notice it. But knowing how the film would turn out at the end, those little mistakes sort of grew on me, just like the rather stilted acting of Yoo Min and Nakamura Toru, who progressively get better towards the end. But then here's the major difference compared to Hollywood: this thing catches fire in the middle. Call it whatever you want, movie magic, emotional involvement, just the right combination of all the elements that can make films great. It's there. Fire. Chills down your spine, your face stuck in front of the screen in ways that would make you laugh if you were looking at someone acting like that. When Park Kyung-Won, our heroine, touches the sky with her little plane, then it's sparks flying all over the place.
You forget about the little technical problems at the beginning; you forget that a very talented music director like Michael Staudacher should have known better and let some scenes go by without that subtle but still noticeable 'musical highlight'; that in certain places Han Ji-Min and Kim Tae-Hyun could have acted a little less cute, as the rest of their very good performances show. You forget, and start caring about what really counts. Can this 10 Million blockbuster really do something for the viewer, move them beyond flashy camera work, exquisite cinematography and top notch sound design? Yes, it can. And it does that with frightening power. Having a climax in the middle and one at the end might seem like a trick to jerk tears from the viewers, but it all works here. The romance might have looked too convenient, if great actors like Jang Jin-Young and Kim Ju-Hyeok weren't there, adding sincerity and passion to characters which were already well written.
Blue Swallow flopped badly at the box office, and the thing that scared me the most was that it would force Yoon Jong-Chan into a sort of 'exile' a la Jang Joon-Hwan, who only re-emerged recently after the commercial flop of his crazy masterpiece 지구를 지켜라 (Save The Green Planet) 3 years ago. But, thankfully, Yoon is already working on his next project, adapted from a TV Documentary -- again KBS' 인간극장 (Human Theater) -- about a group of homeless people, which will star Choi Min-Shik. And, although nothing has been announced, there were rumours that he'd be offered the directing chair for the 33 Billion NZ/Korean co-production 크리스마스 카고 (Christmas Cargo). So at the end of the day, this film might end up being forgotten, just like 역도산 (Rikidozan), 성냥팔이 소녀의 재림 (Resurrection of the Little Match Girl) and other 'failed' blockbusters. But Jang Jin-Young and Kim Ju-Hyeok, now working on their next project, will surely remember it, especially Jang, who dedicated a year and a half of her career completely to this project. Director Yoon will certainly remember it, trying to fix the little problems and using the know how he gained from this film for his next works. And, if that counts anything, I surely will remember it. Because, like those swallows, this thing takes off and flies... up there where only good films can go.
what follows is the Film Review I wrote for the Standard Edition release. The rest of the review, including A/V/Subtitles and the Extra Features, is all from the Limited Edition.
When Diogenes -- one of history's greatest Greek philosophers -- proclaimed himself as a 'kosmou polites', few expected that phrase to become almost a religion, a way of life for many average people and famous figures alike, from Socrates to Bob Marley, from Martin Luther King to Albert Einstein, from Marco Polo to Bruce Lee. But in today's society, that of the 세계인 (citizen of the world, cosmopolitan) is a dying notion, it's almost become passe, enough to stamp it on a magazine and sell it all over the world. Buried in between all of today's 'isms', that idea that we are humans first, forced by laws we can't control to become part of a 'group', 'nation' or 'race' second, mentioning cosmopolitanisms in certain circles is akin to admitting you like Yanni's music - as scary as that sounds. Even in Cinema, and a vibrant and exciting one like in Chungmuro, that word seems to have become a taboo. Because thanks to propaganda, nationalism, silly fights over empty islands and historical distortion in schoolbooks, flag waving sells.
Understanding that essentially we're all the same, save a few details here and there, is a little too idealistic to appeal to the masses, in most cases. While the success of films like 공동경비구역 JSA (Joint Security Area) and 웰컴 투 동막골 (Welcome To Dongmakgol) shows Korean moviegoers are slowly getting rid of the propaganda-tinted view of North Korea, their views towards films that don't clearly judge (negatively) Japan's behavior during the colonial period, and show Koreans who weren't flag waving patriots don't attract the same kind of attention. So 2009 로스트 메모리즈 (2009 Lost Memories) and 바람의 파이터 (Fighter in the Wind) have no problem going past the two Million tickets, while 역도산 (Rikidozan) and the latest victim, Yoon Jong-Chan's 청연 (Blue Swallow), have to face much bleaker realities.
And mind you, we're not dealing with pro-Japanese films, but simply two figures, that of legendary wrestler Rikidozan and female aviator Park Kyung-Won, who refuse to see the world in black and white. Who see a middle point, where neither Japan nor Korea exist, just their own little sphere of the world, the people they know, the problems they have to solve to live a better life, to fulfill their dreams. The most important dramatic element of those two films -- which experienced similar box office failures, although Song Hae-Sung's 2004 film didn't have to deal with the controversy surrounding Blue Swallow -- then is the fact they can't live as citizens of the world, they can't fulfill their dream because something bigger than them prohibits it. Just like Rikidozan, young Park Kyung-Won had a dream, the only problem being that she was a woman, poor, and living in Joseon during the colonial period. Constantly scolded by her abusive father, just because she was another missed chance to have a son in a Joseon which didn't exactly make life for women a paradise, little Kyung-Won would often hide in the fields, and see those flocks of swallows, flying in the sky, free. That became her dream, to finally fly away from all that, from the burden of being a woman in early 20th century colonized Joseon, from being unable to escape a life which would only involve house chores and popping out children like a vending machine. Abandoned by her father, what people called 'her' country, and everyone else, Kyung-Won breathed, lived and slept for only one thing: the sky. To finally one day fly like them, those swallows. Free.
Producer Yang Guk-Seok was driving that day in the Summer of 1995, when he ended up listening to a program which would influence his next 10 years as a professional. It turned out to be the story of Park Kyung-Won's life, born in Daegu in 1901 (it's actually 1897, but there's conflicting historical records here, giving two different years), who moved to Japan in her youth to become Korea's first female aviator, although her journey (in every sense) was cut short right as she was about to hit the peak. It was just a few minutes' worth of narration, but he instantly felt that adrenaline, that desire which comes when you realize there's something really hot in your hands, and needs just a little effort to make it come true. But of course there's a little difference between imagination and actually translating that into film. And especially in the Chungmuro of the mid 90s, already experiencing strong signs of the box office revival which became obvious to everybody with 1996's 은행나무 침대 (The Gingko Bed), but still not ready for filmmaking of that scale, making a film about aviators was an almost impossible task. With most big budget films costing between the 1.5 and 2 Billion Won back then, Park Kyung-Won's story was a little too ambitious for the big suits in Korean Cinema at that time. So preparation did take a long time. Just like Park Kyung-Won took years to get enough money to enroll into aviation school, things rich kids could achieve in a matter of months, Blue Swallow as we know it today took a good decade to materialize.
The initial concept was risky already, without even talking about budget: most films dealing with Japan end up focusing on the bigger picture, the colonial period, the Independence movement and the various historical dates which shaped the relationship between Joseon (and later Korea) and Japan. From 아나키스트 (Anarchists) to 2009 Lost Memories, from the 장군의 아들 (The General's Son) series to 안중근 (Ahn Joong-Geun), the legacy of those days is probably too strong, too painful to get rid of. It would be like making a film about North Korea without ever mentioning Kim Il-Sung, and of course talking and not avoiding those issues is important. Yet, there's a tendency to paint those times as black and white, patriot or traitor, which in some ways reminds me of Historical Dramas like 신돈 (Shin Don), where the idea of '반역자 (traitors to the country) is turned on its head.
Of course there were important patriots who helped Korea become what it is today, and plenty of people who committed acts of treason for their own benefit. But to simply label everyone either black or white, just because we have a more or less clear view of what happened later, and can look at historical documents to see how politics and other factors influenced people's life, is a little too convenient. And Blue Swallow is unique on those terms, just like Rikidozan. Although the film's beginning might feel a little too far fetched for people used to the somber tone often found in films like this, its 'silliness' is a brilliant touch, showing that for kids growing up around the time when Japan colonized Joseon, things were a lot simpler. There were no politics, no military alliances, no traitors and patriots. Just the place they lived in, the people they knew, the things they did before going to sleep.
Yes, it's much too simple, but kids weren't born into thinking they were 'colonized people', and this beginning, as out of place as it might seem in the overall big picture, is a good opportunity to show viewers what they're about to watch will not be about Japan's colonial period, or at least it won't be the central focus of the film. We're dealing with a person, her dream, and the people who happened to participate in that dream, share her happiness and suffering, her triumphs and tragedies. It's easy to look at historical records, showing a very young Park Kyung-Won receiving education in Japan, and inevitably become a little less confrontational towards her 'captors'. But Kyung-Won didn't have anything keeping her at home: her father never did a single thing for her, having to cook and do the laundry for her 3 sisters and younger brother, spending all day in the mountains gathering firewood.
She never got a chance to get even basic education, since she was worthless for her father, who even went as far as calling her Park Won-Tong (원통, wontong meaning resentment). The only chance for her was going to the local church, where she received basic education for free thanks to the missionaries there. But after Shinmyung Female School started changing fees, she dropped out of school soon after. Just studying that much was already a bigger achievement than most women her age, but after seeing an impressive show by pioneer aviator Art Smith, she realized the only way to achieve her longtime dream would be becoming an aviator. She left for Japan on September of 1917, and arrived in Yokohama, she enrolled in an industrial institute, where for the next two and a half years she'd try to make enough money to make her dream come true. But as the money was never enough, she came back to Daegu, where she studied to become a nurse, not so much because she liked that kind of work, but because she needed the money.
After working hard for years to make enough money to afford it, she entered the Kamada Aviation School on January 1925. At first she wanted to attend the same school Ahn Chang-Nam (Korea's first pilot) graduated from, but since it was ruined in a fire during the Kanto quake of 1923, she had to opt for Tokyo. Back then ranks for pilots were measured using flying hours as a meter (100 hours would get you 1st class, 50 hours second class, and finally 30 hours for third class). Third class pilots could only take part in private flights around the outskirts of the school's ground, second class pilots were free to fly anywhere but only in private flights, and finally first class pilots could even take part in commercial flights (and run a business thanks to that). As Park's flying experience increased, she faced with a sort of glass ceiling, and a form of discrimination itself: only men could enter that prestigious first class, because back then women had 'too big a rear end to effectively drive an airplane', so she had to convince people of her quality despite having the experience and the talent to do it already. How did she win this kind of glass ceiling? By learning with cars first, just like her predecessor Ahn Chang-Nam did before. But it was just one of her many struggles, as getting her long awaited pilot license would also cost over 2,000 Won. Just to get an idea of how much that was, in the 20s buying a decent house would cost you around 300-400 Won, so we're dealing with a huge amount of money.
In 1926, Park moved to the Tachikawa school (about an hour drive from Tokyo), where she'd spend most of her life as an aviator. At the beginning of 1927, Park had collected around 26 hours of flying, for over 190 tours. She finally entered the exam to become third class pilot on January 25, 1927. 3 days later would mark the day she'd receive her license: after 3 years in Japan struggling, coping with racial and sexual discrimination, she made it. She became Korea's first civil female aviator. The rest, triumphs and tragedies included, is history. Of course there's plenty of these 신여성 (modern woman) populating Korean history in early 20th Century, and many of them ended up seeing their stories told on film. Take Yoon Shim-Deok, Korea's first soprano and protagonist of a 1969 film entitled 윤심덕 (Yoon Shim-Deok) directed by Han Hyeon-Cheol, and starring the great Moon Hee -- but also Kim Ho-Seon's 사의 찬미 (Song of Death) with Jang Mi-Hee from 1991; Na Hye-Seok, Korea's first modern female painter, protagonist of Kim Su-Yong's 1978 film 화조 (Flowers and Birds) with Jung Yoon-Hee in the leading role. But those women were all part of Korean society's 'elite' unlike Park, so in a way her accomplishments are all the more impressive.
With a story like that, all they needed was a director who could handle this kind of material. Producer Yang, who first found about this story listening to that radio program, had to go to Japan to research about Park's life, as there was very little information about her in Korean. After a few years of going back and forth, he finally found someone who wanted to work with him, and that turned out to be Seok Myung-Hong of Cineline II, the producers behind 친구 (Friend). It was already 2001, a good six years after Yang first promised himself to make a film about Park Kyung-Won, but all it took to convince President Seok were 30 Minutes. Cineline brought in novelist Lee In-Hwa, the writer behind that masterpiece called 영원한 제국 (The Eternal Empire), which of course was adapted by Im Sang-Soo and company for Park Jong-Won's 1995 film.
Their choice for that role was surprising as well, as they called someone who looked as distant from the blockbuster mentality as possible: Yoon Jong-Chan. Although most people know him for his 'non-horror' quasi-masterpiece 소름 (Sorum) from 2001, his short films shot while at Syracuse are probably even more striking when looking at Blue Swallow. Forming a sort of 'Trilogy of Memories', his films Playback, Memento and particularly Views deal with the pain of losing his wife in the Seoul mall collapse of 1995. The pain of losing someone and living with only their memories left is what influenced most of Sorum, and although it might not be apparent at first glance, it also moves the entire core of the film, as Kyung-Won finally decides to put everything on the line to go back to that initial memory, in the field, where she saw those swallows flying free in the sky.
Returning to Korea after a half decade, Yoon found a society he didn't recognize anymore. Thinking about his debut film, he was working on 수호전 (Friendly War), a sort of ironic twist on how he saw the situation in his home land at the time, when you couldn't tell who was helping and who was hurting you. A society with no friends and foes, no love, no tolerance and understanding of people's common problems. The film, which was introduced for the first time around mid 1999, told the story of a young man's short life in the countryside, where death becomes the only way to escape the vortex he's fallen into. This bleakness might of course come from Yoon's past experiences, but it's not necessarily a result of that, as most of his works have small moments of charm and tenderness inside all the incredibly dark and frank portrayal of the demons inside people.
But at the end of the day, Friendly War ended up in the backburner, as Yoon focused on what would become his debut film, Sorum. Although people introduced it as a horror film, the genre was only the perfect launching pad Director Yoon used to present his world, where the human demons, the nightmares memories create could be a little more acceptable if presented within a certain context. So that fantastic piece of unintentional art which was the apartment in the film became a sort of character itself, trapping the characters and forcing them to remember even what they tried to forget. Yoon risked hard with this film, as although Jang Jin-Young was already super talented by then, her image didn't make that the most obvious choice. After seeing her in 반칙왕 (The Foul King), the two decided to work together, and talented Kim Myung-Min, who had a few appearances in films and TV Dramas as his only experience, jumped on board.
Ghosts or long-haired girls with white robes weren't really the key in Yoon's 'horror'. Perhaps moved by the situation he found in this 'New Korea' he met coming back from the US, perhaps influenced by his personal experiences to see things a little darker than other people, Yoon used the basic tropes of the horror genre to show the real horror is not ghosts or cheap thrills, but loneliness and that anger, that dark power inside people's minds that can lead others to commit acts they wouldn't even imagine possible. With an unique use of lighting, mostly natural and with very little added frills, and some of the best performances seen that year (especially the two leads and Gi Ju-Bong), Sorum achieved a kind of cult status, despite not doing that well at the box office. Although Yoon wanted to go back to his 'memory' theme, and start working once again on Friendly Wars, Producer Yang Guk-Seok and Cineline II knocked at the door, showing him the script Lee In-Hwa had written, asking him to take a look at it. The story between Yoon Jong-Chan and Blue Swallow started there. It took a good year before Yoon had worked around Lee's draft, but at first the producers thought Yoon had stripped the film of all its commercial elements, so he had to rewrite once again, which delayed pre-production much more than producers expected.
The key here wasn't so much Park Kyung-Won being Korea's first female aviator, but a woman achieving something important in a period where any achievement for a woman in colonized Korea was nearly impossible. Stripped from the usual war between patriots and traitors, nationalism, war and politics. Just Kyung-Won and her dream, something which might have connected with women of all ages, now the most 'profitable' target demographic in Chungmuro. And even if that dream was impossible from the beginning, the fact she went along with it makes her story all the more striking. The idea of making a film about an historical figure stripping her life story from most of the politics happening in the period was the most arduous task, though.
Park was described as both a traitor to her country for participating in flights promoting the Japanese Empire, but also celebrated as a sort of national hero. She had to live with that double-edged sword for all her short life, because to fulfill her dream she had to forget about country, about Korea and Japan, about being a woman in that day and age. Park was an innocent victim of the time she lived in, but just like Yoon commented in an interview with Kim Young-Jin, I refuse to believe EVERY SINGLE Korean living in the colonial period followed Independence Fighters in their struggle. And no, I'm not simply seeing this in political terms: we don't need historical records to guess there were people who did what they had to do to put food on the table, or in Kyung-Won's case, to achieve their lifelong aspiration. There were people who used their status vis-a-vis the Japanese Empire to make money, committing acts of treason against Joseon. But just because someone like Park chose not to submit to the ideology of the period, it doesn't mean she was a traitor.
One thing Yoon does extremely well in this film is presenting some of the 'collateral' issues which influenced Park's life, some of which might be fictional (Han Ji-Hyeok is not a real figure, unlike Kang Se-Gi and Lee Jung-Hee), but clearly drive home the point: that Park was a victim of forces bigger than her, even bigger than her amazing determination. So by side-stepping the independence fighters and the 친일파 (the pro-Japanese), Yoon draws Park and Han as two people simply living life within their own context. What happens to Japan and Korea is only tangential to them, and only influences the way they act when they can't escape the situation. The decision Park makes vis-a-vis her 'promotional flights' -- which led to that famous photo making the rounds on the net, which was one of the 'proofs' that she was Pro-Japanese -- connected to the Japanese Empire are inevitable, not because refusing to cooperate would have meant dying a terrible death as someone who refused to cooperate with the Empire. But simply because that would have meant an end to her dream.
So called 'patriots' are quick to say they'd give up everything for their country, but those are only words. Park Kyung-Won had a dream, it just happened to become a victim of its times. But all the scenes showing Park, Han and all the other Koreans living in a sort of microcosmos are not only very touching, but quite intelligent. Yoon draws characters who live their own life, and the tragedy only comes from the fact back then you couldn't escape the bigger picture and live life as you wanted. Their dreams meet a big obstacle, called politics, propaganda, nationalism, war... call it what you want. But the point is, they're just people like you and I. Politics was the last thing they were thinking about.
In a way, this sort of 'anti-political populism' is something which you can find in many recent Korean films covering historical periods. Of course there's Rikidozan, but also 효자동 이발사 (The President's Barber), where Song Kang-Ho's character finds himself thrown in one of Korea's most tumultuous periods, but he reacts like most average people not interested in politics (unless politics ended up taking food off the table or hurting their children) would have back then. Because scholars and politicians might have a clear opinion of people like Park Jung-Hee, but go take a look at documentaries like 애국자 게임 (Patriot Games), where an elder couple is asked why they respected the Park Jung-Hee regime so much. Their answer? Almost disarmingly simple: thanks to him, rice was on the table. Of course it's simplistic to go back to that to explain everything, but this idea that films about an historical period must take a stance and judge is not only showing a lack of respect for those who simply decided to live life their own way, but also counterproductive. Just like only asking criticism from 5th Generation Chinese filmmakers had become annoying by the mid 90s, asking films like this to take a stance on the pro or against Japan argument turns everything into a vile game of silly politics. And that's exactly what the people who created this 친일파 논란 (pro-Japanese protests) want you to do.
Of course these protests started from a simple notion, that this film was pushing the fact Park Kyung-Won was Korea's first female aviator, so she should be considered a national hero for that. Bringing forth proof that Park wasn't actually Korea's first aviator (Kwon Gi-Ok, who trained with the Chinese military and participated in the Independence Movement, is technically the first Korean female aviator), and that she actually was involved in many pro-Japanese activities, including a rumour that she was involved in a love affair with then Minister of P&T Koizumi Matajiro (yeah, grandfather of Japan's current president), those netizens and 'journalists' accused Yoon of trying to fool viewers. Not only into thinking this woman, who disregarded the Independence movement to focus selfishly on her own goals, was a role model, but also that pro-Japanese activities were simply a set of unfortunate circumstances she had to go through to fulfill her dreams. Even before the film started airing, and even before those naysayers saw one minute of said film, hundreds, thousands of posts all over the Korean-speaking net claimed the film was a farce, calling for boycotts and evne going as far as saying whatever Japanese money entered the picture (literally) was done so to cancel the country's dark past. Praise Blue Swallow and you become a pro-Japanese activist. And with impressionable youth drugged on broadband Internet mounting silly International gaffes out of a bunch of islets they knew very little about before they appeared on those damn t-shirts, just the mention of a film being pro-Japanese was like burning the flag.
This sort of internet fascism not only hurts the film, which is about everything but being pro or against Japan or Korea, but also the image of Korean netizens (especially the younger ones), who seemed like a bunch of sheep flocking to protest against a film they hadn't even seen. The idea that we should judge a work of art -- and an excellent one like this, at that -- negatively just because it doesn't paint a woman who lived independently and removed from the idea of nationalism in an era when the country was suffering the oppression of becoming a colony is offensive. Perhaps the major strength of this film is its universal message, and the fact its major characters live above politics, and are only influenced by them when it's impossible to avoid the inevitable. Han Ji-Hyeok becomes a member of the Japanese army, but there isn't a single scene putting political emphasis on that. Park Kyung-Won suffers from that ever-present 'invisible' oppression which comes from being a Korean woman in Japan, but it only becomes a significant element when it conflicts with her aspirations. There's no 대한민국 만세 (Hurrah For Korea) nor odes to the 大日本 (dai nippon, Great Japanese) Empire. It's just an ode to Park Kyung-Won, her strength, her short, but meaningful life, and the people who happened to share those beautiful moments with her.
But even though Yoon's skills as a director help make it the success it is, Blue Swallow would go nowhere without the amazing talent of one of Korea's best actresses, Jang Jin-Young. Jang sacrificed 15 months on this project, had to learn Japanese and fight off her fear of heights for a role which would become the most demanding of her career. But she's simply magical. Not only her Japanese delivery is excellent -- although not on par with Seol Kyung-Gu in Rikidozan and especially Yang Dong-Geun in Fighter in the Wind) -- but it never hurts her ability to emote, which is usually the biggest obstacle for those having to learn a foreign language quickly -- ask Jang Dong-Gun in 2009 Lost Memories. Mixing strength, determination, vitality and that pathos of the great person who's about to enter history, Park Kyung-Won comes alive thanks to Jang's amazing performance. I don't think she's ever disappointed me ever since I started noticing her in the late 90s on TV, but Jang is up there with Moon So-Ri and Jeon Do-Yeon in the absolute elite of Chungmuro, and this film proves it once again.
She owns the screen, like a muse, and those last five minutes under the rain are the kind of cinematic greatness which makes great actors become legends. In short, the most emotionally involving performance I've seen an actress give since Moon So-Ri in 오아시스 (Oasis). But she's not alone. Ohh boy she's not alone. Kim Mu-Saeng's great talent lives on with his kid, Ju-Hyeok, who again shows he's one of the most underrated actors in the country. He balances his usual nice guy image with some charisma, and barrels of that 사람냄새 (smell of people) which made even throwaway works like 홍반장 (Mr. Handy) worth sitting through. And young Han Ji-Min is impressive as well, using her few lines of Japanese to show it's quality that counts, not quantity. If 부활 (Rebirth) wasn't enough, I think we have quite a talent in the making.
Sure, the film is not perfect. The CG in the first half is a little awkward, to pick up impressively in the second half. Michael Staudacher's soundtrack is distracting at times, using beautiful melodies from Mahler and Beethoven when the subtlety of the scenes should be enough. But there's a crescendo which starts from the middle point of the film (when Kyung-Won touches the sky with her fingers. You'll see), with every single element of the film working together like a swiss clock to deliver a disarmingly affecting finale, that it would be silly to fault the film for those initial screw-ups. Blue Swallow is a triumph: of filmmaking over propaganda, of people over nations, politics and war. Of acting over flashy technicalities, and of emotional impact over historical accuracy or the silly shenanigans of fascist netizens overly concerned with politics they don't even understand. Yoon Jong-Chan is still a young director, and given his lack of box office successes will continue to find it hard making films, but if Sorum and Blue Swallow are any indication, his next film with Choi Min-Shik (adapted from a TV Documentary about a group of homeless people) will instantly jump on top of my to see list.
Does Park Kyung-Won fulfill her dream at the end? I won't ruin it for you, but even if it won't last forever, there's a moment when she flies. Free, like those swallows, like this beautiful film.
CONTINUES ON PART 2