When Bong Joon-Ho's 괴물 (The Host) debuted, starting with a crazy 600-screen release, film people were complaining of blockbusters monopolizing the distribution channels. Sure enough, a year later 디워 (D-War) and 화려한 휴가 (May 18) faced similar (and arguably deserved) criticism. Yet, a quick look at last weekend's box office report and the current reactions emerging about the Manchurian western will be telling: 14 Billion Won spread over 954 nationwide screens, roughly 45% of the entire pie. If that's not a monopoly, you'd ask yourself what could, but few people are complaining. Why? Because The Good, The Bad, and The Weird is Chungmuro's new savior, the film which could open the doors of a renaissance, or slam them in the face of whomever is brave enough to ask for funding after that.

This is as much a psychological game as the fall of the screen quota and its aftermath were. When a couple of years ago the industry was hovering around the 60% domestic share and funding was readily available (relatively), people could have gone the Lee Joon-Ik way. They could have spent knowing money wasted today will be money lost tomorrow. But they wasted billions on pretty and empty star vehicles, idiotic jopok comedies, concept films without concept. More or less the cinematic equivalent of a Bugatti Veyron powered by a tractor engine. You can go read all the red ink-stained results, but what really counts is investors' idea of how the film market is doing. The screen quota, more than anything, threw down a psychological barrier which helped Korean cinema's diversity flourish for years, at least on paper. And, consequentially, what this endless repetition of flops taught most investors was that Korean films aren't safe to invest anymore. Unless those three amigos do something about it.

This is why Kim Ji-Woon's film is so important to the short term health of Chungmuro, albeit director Kim is too modest (or burdened) to admit it. Many of the big names with big projects in need of big funding are still struggling to find investors, and the risk of falling into another GP506 (The Post Guard) affair, with shooting halted mid-flight for lack of finding and later resumed, doesn't sound so strange after all. For that reason, there isn't as much backlash about the 900 screens as one would think, and even critics (those who know their trade anyway) understand how important and symbolic the success of this film can become. It's not pretty to admit, that an entire industry is hanging from a cliff in Grand Canyon, waiting to be saved by a foul king riding a motorbike, the first Dolce & Gabbana-clad cowboy assassin and Giordano's favorite boy playing with his toy gun.

It's a bit of a shame, seeing all these elements, superfluous to us movie aficionados but eventually becoming an influence, dictating most of the discourse regarding this work. The fact it brought back the western to Korea after decades, or as critic Oh Dong-Jin points out its technical achievements, its bringing back the energy which Chungmuro had been sorely lacking for over a year. It shouldn't be forgotten, but it seems it's playing second fiddle to all those numbers, the worries and psychological games. It's very likely the film will reach the 7-8 million tickets it needs to land in safe territory, that it will become a solid hit overseas, and you can bet Expression Engine will beg me to stop writing when that DVD we're waiting for comes out. But, in the meantime, let's forget about money and listen to the man himself, in a collection of bits and pieces from various interviews, taken during the last week.

Four days after its July 17 release, the film has already sold over two million tickets. It's really an impressive result, particularly as it came so fast. How are you feeling?
I'm not really the type to, say, get excited if things really go well, or submit to frustration if it's not the case. I think, in this case, the better than expected opening came thanks to people's expectations and the fact there was a much higher number of people intrigued by the film than usual. This film is basking in all the madness and insanity the people who made it showed. My hoping for a good result at the box office, unlike my past relative indifference, really comes down to hoping this repays all the efforts of the cast and crew in an explosive way. Even if nowadays the initial part of a theater run is always important, in some ways it could help revitalize the industry a little. The idea that people just need to close an eye on Chungmuro because it's a crisis doesn't make any sense. But I think this is an interesting and fun film, and that, spectacle as it may be, I was hoping more people would see it.

Are you planning to make other cuts [ed. Other than the Cannes and Korean ones]?
I'm preparing a new one for the TIFF. I think the cut they'll see in Toronto is an upgrade of the Cannes one, and will probably become what we sell overseas.

Looking at the film's atmosphere, shooting couldn't be anything but a constant battle. Then you had to deal with a record-breaking 17.5 Billion budget, you were constantly running against the clock. It must have been really something.
It seems I lived the last few months screaming “faster” and “stronger.” It's as if I became a track & field coach for the Olympics (laughs). While shooting I always felt this huge barrier in front of me, as if it was something I couldn't overcome. I wasn't running against the clock predicting how it would end, I just kept wondering what I could find beyond that barrier. So there was this desire to throw it down. We kept pushing to the limit, not only myself but everyone involved in this film. I think the result will be felt in the final film. Kim Hye-Soo said, after watching the film, that it was just crazy. That's the mood. It could feel like excess to some people, not allowing them to sink into the film emotionally. But, then again, other people will see this as a madness-drenched spectacle, and could bask in it. I'd like people to just bask in the film's audiovisual pleasures, that's all.

When you introduced the film at the press screening, you said “it's not a masterpiece or anything, but I made it being sincere about its spectacle roots.” Didn't that put an end to all criticism?
I was just hoping this would be remembered as having “the best chase scene,” or the “best opening action scene.” It doesn't have that universal appeal of the classics. I just hope people will talk of all those epic, monumental moments affecting and exciting viewers, be it casual filmgoers or film buffs.

You've been criticized for poor scripts before, so didn't that automatically make you react to the similar criticism about this film?
What I was focusing on in this film was something else, so I just created a basic skeleton of a story. People think storytelling is always pivotal in films, but there's more to film that simple narrative; films can be enjoyed in many other ways. I just think story is one of those elements. That's how I worked all those years. But some critics keep beating on the same point, focusing on the lack of narrative. Those people need to understand what the director is trying to do first, and then they can judge if he did that well or not. They keep ignoring what I'm trying to do, and just project what they're thinking about my style regardless of what I'm doing, so it's not really constructive criticism. Doesn't help the viewers, nor themselves.

I'm curious, when you decided the title would become the current one, why did “The Ugly” change to “The Weird?”
First, I didn't really plan to use this title. A Bittersweet Life [ed. Korean title is the same as Fellini's La Dolce Vita], and the short film I'm putting the finishing touches on [ed. Titled in Korean like Peter Jackson's Heavenly Creatures] used titles from existing films, so at least this time I didn't want to repeat myself. But no matter how much I thought about it, this was the most powerful title I could think of. Something like 황야의 세 악인 (Three Villains in the Wilderness) was also one of the nominations.

Then again, that's similar to Kurosawa's 隱し砦の三惡人 (The Hidden Fortress) [ed. Japanese title roughly means “the hidden fortress' three villains”].
Ha! We also had 좋은 놈 나쁜 놈 더 나쁜 놈 (The Good, The Bad, The Even Worse)! (laughs) That and all the other candidate titles felt a little flat, so we went for this. And of course they loved the title overseas, so that helped. Particularly the importers (laughs). I saw this as a film that had to focus on spectacle carried by strong characters, and “weird” has certain nuances that could help the film. But, you know, there's also a kind of sentiment attached to that word.

Did you ever plan to open a la The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly showing titles for every character?
It's true I was influenced by Leone's film, but I never thought of any parody, homage or remake. I just wanted to transfer the memories of Leone's trilogy I saw in my childhood, and my fantasies about the great westerns into a Korean film. As a result, I borrowed the characters of that film, but that's where it ends. The film that's closest to The Good, The Bad, and The Weird is actually Lee Man-Hee's 쇠사슬을 끊어라 (Break the Chains).

If one looks at your films, you're not adding images to express a kind of narrative you devised. You first devise a special look, and then add a story and some bones so that it can stand on its own. If we look at this film in particular, the vast Manchurian plains, the bikes and the horses, all the dust and smoke, the rush and the chase. That really seems to be the starting point for this film.
That's it. I once went on a train ride around Spain, and looking at those vast plains I instantly fell for that image. The only living things you could find were birds, and it felt as if it had no end. Honestly, if you look at Korea, even the top of any mountain is crowded with people. People sometimes need some quiet and solitude, but in Korea where would you possibly feel that? There isn't much land to begin with. Sometimes it makes me think. What would Korean men have become, if they hadn't been confined to a peninsula and lived in a vast continental country? That kind of scale and impetuous passion, you know? You can say I was always dreaming of that. I always thought I'd one day make a film about men riding horses on a vast, deserted plain, and the western was perfectly suited for that image. You could say I made this film with those men riding horses on the great plains in mind. So any time I see those men, the horses, the chases. I just get excited, I even want to scream (laughs).

I think this film, just like the Batman series, opened the possibility of making a sequel, changing the villain for instance.
A sequel? Nah. If we're talking about three women, then I'd understand (laughs). Actually, more than a sequel, I think there's something important about this revival of the Manchurian action film. There was always a certain interest in action adventure films, but we've wasted those expectations on way too many jopok films. This film resurrected the Manchurian Western after decades, and more than anything I hope this becomes the catalyst for a revival, so that other directors can make that vision come true. You could think of 다찌마와 리 (Dachimawa Lee) as something similar, for instance. There are many Korean directors who'd love to shoot a western film. I think Oh Seung-Wook [ed. Director of 킬리만자로 (Kilimanjaro)] could make a really great Manchurian western, and even Choi Ho [사생결단 (Bloody Tie), 고고 70 (Go Go 70), etc.] always loved westerns. I think Lee Myung-Se, Park Chan-Wook and Kim Sung-Soo might just be the same? I hope this film helps paving the way commercially and structurally for a revival of the genre.

SOURCES
[Naver], [Naver], [Naver], [Film 2.0], [Movieweek], [Daum], [Daum], [Naver], [My Daily], [Cine21]