The Host

                The Host (2006) is different from other monster movies where a creature ravages a city, such as Godzilla and Cloverfield. As Sotang states, quoted by Anisfield, “’In science fiction films disaster is rarely viewed intensively; it is always extensive’ and such films are ‘one of the purest forms of spectacle; that is, we are rarely inside anyone’s feelings.’” (57) This is not The Host. In it, we see a family with many flawed characters—a grandfather who neglected his son, a father who everyone thinks is stupid, an aunt who can never quite succeed because she’s too slow, and an alcohol uncle without a job. But once they realize that Park Hyun-seo (Ko Ah-seong) is still alive, they ban together to save her. And through that, they all redeem themselves. The grandfather who neglected his son defended and took the blame for Park Gang-doo’s (Song Kang-ho) issues and ended up sacrificing himself for his family. The father who everyone considered a failure succeeded in killing the creature and saving the boy that his daughter was trying to save. The aunt who never managed to shoot in time when it mattered managed to shoot the monster in the eye, critically injuring him. And finally, the alcoholic uncle used alcohol bottles to make bombs which he used to help kill the monster and was the one who managed to find the location of Hyun-seo through a work ethic and cleverness that no one thought he had. I feel like the movie is less about the monster and more about the struggles of a family, which makes it unique from other monster movies. It is a monster movie because there is a strange creature who is trying to kill people, but I feel like the monster was just something to build the actual story on—a story of redemption and the love of family.

Welcome to Dongmakgol

                Welcome to Dongmakgol (2005) is a far more humorous and abstract perspective on the Korean War than The Marines who Never Returned or Taegugki: The Brotherhood of War. However, does it make it any less effective in showing the effects and implications of the war? I agree with Jake Bevan in his article, “Welcome to Panmunjeom: encounters with the north in contemporary South Korean cinema,” that Welcome to Dongmakgol is in fact more successful than some other war films, such as Taegugki: The Brotherhood of War. This is because Welcome to Dongmakgol presents an alternative to just North and South. In Taegugki, both sides were shown in a negative light. You ended up not really wanting to be either. However, in Dongmakgol there is the village of Dongmakgol, where everyone strives to be like children—carefree and without prejudice. Not only do we see the happiness of people unaffected by war, which Taegugki showed and The Marines who Never Returned did not, but we see the ability for North and South Korean soldiers who initially wanted to kill each other being able to return to that state of harmony. Not only that, but we can see the difficulties they first encounter—trying to cover up their disgust of each other when they first agree to help the villagers, which only ended in them goading each other until they fought. And then we see them able to move past it. I would have to say though, it is not in the unrealistic scene with them killing the boar that they become friends, but in the ensuing scene of all the soldiers, including the American, sneaking off to eat the boar. I think that’s when they realize how similar they all are because they all had the exact idea to do something that they should not, and it was that recognition of the fact that they are all just people who are sometimes mischievous and other things other than evil, that allows them to overcome their differences. And seeing that capacity of unity between North and South Koreans, if even on film, is a lot more promising than seeing the violent effects that one already lives in.

Taegugki: The Brotherhood of War

                Taegugki: The Brotherhood of War (2004), in giving a “more balanced approach than earlier anticommunist films,” (Kim 303) the ultimate feeling that the film leaves us with is that there are only survivors, no winners or heroes. Despite the uplifting ending where the children are “somehow thriving and sanguine despite the utter devastation all around them, re-inscribes the film with a nationalist ending,” (Kim 306) I am not left with the feeling that the nation will blossom anew, as Kim is suggesting the end scene presents. Part of that optimistic ending is that Jin Seok (Won Bin) is re-united with his mother and says that he too will go to school. However, we see that fifty years later he is still grieving over his brother and obsessed with finding him. When he takes out the shoes that Jin Tae (Jang Dong-gun) had intended to give him, they are shiny and polished. So clearly they have not just been left there until this moment. His granddaughter, as the elderly Jin Seok gets ready to leave for the war site, mentions that last time he got sick trying to look for Jin Tae. The fact that there was a last time, and it certainly does not seem like last time was his first effort to find Jin Tae, shows that he has sacrificed his time and health over and over again in this search—unable to move on despite the optimistic expectation. In that case, Taegugki is more successful at showing the post-armistice division consciousness than Kim concludes with because what I left with at the end of the film was that people should be relieved, they should be happy—and they even act it, but in the end everyone is left with a part of them that cannot move on. Even the granddaughter cannot move on from the war because she has to see her grandfather go through all this and assist him in his search. So what had the possibility to be positive ended up disheartening, just like Jin Tae’s attempt to get his brother out of the war, Jin Seok going to see his family where Kim Young-shin (Lee Eun-joo) gets arrestest, and Jin Seok’s long search for his brother.

The Marines that Never Returned

In David Scott Diffrient’s article, he states that The Marines that Never Returned (1968) “treats the subject of the Korean War with intelligence and sensitivity, daring even to show his doomed heroes questioning its legitimacy.” (28) While I agree with the statement, I think that it is interesting to contrast it to the next movie we watched, Taegugki: The Brotherhood of War (2004). They both show a more balanced portrayal of the Korea War, as opposed to a strictly black-or-white / right-or-wrong depiction of North and South Korea. I think it is interesting to see who or what it seems brings out the courage in both movies ‘heroes.’ In The Marines that Never Returned, the troupe rescues a young girl, Young-hui, who they love and care for throughout the movie. Conversely, in Taegugki: The Brotherhood of War, Jin Tae (Jang Dong-gun) goes to war with the motivation of protecting his brother. Why do these people stay in the war if they are questioning its legitimacy? I think it is clear from both movies that true courage did not come from national pride, it came from humanity because people want to protect the ones they love. Even when the marines wavered in their conviction, ultimately they sacrificed themselves to protect the people they cared about despite knowing that it would be the end for them. And the fact that The Marines that Never Returned, which was for the most part less serious than Taegugki, can reveal the human connections that make wars worth fighting for in some people’s eyes, even to the end, is what makes it as intelligent and sensitive as Diffrient highlights in his article.

Gender in Love and War: Taegukgi, The Marines Who Never Returned and my Experiences in Peru

I spent the first two weeks of March in Cusco, Peru, a city rich with Incan and colonial history. I was working with OCAD University Professor David McIntosh on his project Quipucamayoc, a research-creation interactive media art exhibition project. The goal of the project is to re-imagine Incan and Andean traditions in contemporary contexts, using digital and wearable technology to help performers and audience members embody Andean gods and mythological figures. The Peruvian colonial case, involving the rapid modernization of the country by Spanish colonizers who forcibly destroyed Andean traditions, bears many similarities to subject material and historical context we have studied in this course.

(Myself at the Cusco carnival, March 10, 2014)

One subject of particular note in both the Andean and Korean cases is gender, particularly how it applies to conflict. A particularly strong modernizing influence in Peru was psychoanalysis--traditional societal structures of gender were re-imagined under patriarchal, Freudian ideas. This “colonization” of traditional conceptions of gender continues today in academic discourse on the subject. Meanwhile, rural Andean communities, and indeed some urban centers like Cusco, have attempted to reintegrate these traditions into contemporary life.

The results are provocative ceremonies and coming-of-age rituals that involve a combination of sexuality, androgyny and war-play. In these rituals, adolescents in a community turn sexuality and sexual interaction into a game of conquest, with both men and women as strategists and active players. Victories involve outlasting the sexual partner and accumulating as many sexual partners as possible. Rather than a patriarchal system in which the male dominates the female through sex and through the phallus, this system holds a kind of feminine androgyny at its center.

I see similarities to this re-appropriation in the Korean context, namely in The Marines Who Never Returned and Taegukgi. In Korean Golden Age Melodrama: Gender, Genre, and National Cinema, Author David Scott Diffrient suggests that The Marines Who Never Returned adopts melodramatic emotional outpourings commonly associated with women’s film in Korea. The character Young-hui also embodies this crossing of genders--Young-hui acts as a mascot and leader figure, giving the soldiers names and ordering them to do things. However, Young-hui also acts emotionally, and in doing so (particularly through her letters to the soldiers), allows them to express themselves as well. Young-hui thus expresses gender fluidly, in a similar way to the feminine androgyny expressed in Andean communities.

Meanwhile, Taegukgi, while also still emotional in its delivery, also emphasizes, through several action scenes involving extended hand-to-hand combat between men, a very traditional and physical notion of masculinity. It is interesting to note as well that The Marines Who Never Returned involves a scene in which the soldiers travel to a brothel and force the prostitutes, who are at first unwilling, to accommodate them. Here, the films attempt to return to modern notions of sexuality and gender, in which female bodies are passive and male bodies are active in sexual interaction. Why is this? Perhaps patriarchal notions of sex are so ingrained in modern culture that they are difficult to remove. However, I posit that this return embodies a repetition of a kind of traumatic masculinity. Perhaps the notion of sexuality as male-active/female-passive is not only damaging to female participants, but also to men. In this framework, guilt and confusion over the damage caused by patriarchal sexual structures results in violent, exaggerated depictions of the masculine. This can be seen in South American culture as Machismo, and also in these war films that depict violent deconstructions, and often destructions, of men who embody modern notions of masculinity.

Academic discourse about commonalities between South America and East Asia are unfortunately rare. I hope to see more of this in the future.

Seong Han-mo as a Victim of Circumstance

The President's Barber (2004) shows the life of a typical barber living in a not-so typical neighbourhood, which ultimately changes his life and that of his family's. The barber, Seong Han-mo, is played by Song Kang-ho, who we have seen in several other movies. In each film, he plays the 'every day man'-- seemingly harmless and a little silly at times. He reprises that sort of character here, making it seem like all the events in his life happened because he was a victim of circumstance.

Seong Han-mo does not seem like an exceptional barber. He just happened to live in the president's neighbourhood, and then his friend just happened to suggest putting up a photo of the president, which the government happened to see. And that chain of events led to him becoming the president's barber. But there is this lack of agency on Han-mo's part. This does take away from his accomplishments, but mostly, it takes away his blame.

Han-mo took his son, Seong Nak-han (Lee Jae-Eung), to the police station because Nak-han had diarrhea, which was supposed to be a symptom of communism. The interrogation that Nak-han had to go through included electro-shock tactics, which led to him losing the use of his legs when he was finally released. While Nak-han was still in custody, Kim Min-Ja (Moon So-Ri) blamed Han-mo for losing their son. As a viewer, I understood where she was coming from, but did not put the same level of blame on him because Han-mo never seemed like the kind of guy who knew what he was getting into. He took Nak-han to the police station assuming they would just babysit him, which is naive considering the tension in the community, but he just seems like that kind of guy who would not know better.

Working Through Problems and Post-Modern Time: The President's Barber and Epitaph

The film The President’s Barber depicts the working through of Han-Mo’s personal issues, and through them, Korea’s issues with its 20^th century history. In the film, Han-Mo’s child Nak-An is rendered paraplegic by torture; it is only when Han-Mo speaks up against the new president and quits his job in his first politicized action that Nak-An can walk again. Here, Nak-An’s embodiment of Han-Mo’s unresolved issues echo Freud’s discussion of repetition; Freud says, “the patient does not remember anything of what he has forgotten and repressed but acts it out. He reproduces it not as a memory but as an action; he repeats it, without, of course, knowing that he is repeating it” (150). This film presents the eventual working through of Han-Mo’s issues as positive and definite, as a conclusive and happy end to the film.  This is in line with Freud’s conclusion that at the end of treatment, “the doctor has nothing to do than to wait and let things take their course, a course which cannot be avoided nor always hastened” (155).

However, in a post-modern world where grand narratives with happy endings often break down, does Freud’s notion of definitively “working through” personal issues still hold? In the film Epitaph, Lee Su-In helps the child Asako work through her personal issues in a method consistent with the way Freud describes. However, at the end of her treatment, Asako dies, and Lee Su-In is made to horrifically re-enact her memories. This film posits that the very modern notion of working through issues through repetition and remembering is not sufficient in a post-modern world where time is no longer linear. Indeed, in many films in the course, including The Host, Welcome to Dongmakgol, Dachimawa Lee and The Good, the Bad, the Weird, time has non-linear (cyclical, circular, disjointed/multiplicitous) qualities, and this reflects in their conclusions and messages.

Ultimately, The President’s Barber’s attempt to impose a grand narrative on its story is not entirely successful. The film’s happy moments and nostalgic orange tint betray a much darker story, in which a desperate, disenfranchised family tries to heal their paraplegic, tortured son, and only their despondent failure and resulting political apathy bring him back to health. Perhaps this film reflects an attempt by Korea to work through its past--but as long as time is viewed in only a modern fashion, this may prove impossible.

The president's barber

The movie The President’s barber reflects modern Korean history. Although the movie doesn’t mention the name of the presidents, it makes it obvious that the presidents in the movie are Lee SeungMan, Park Chunghee and JeonDooHwan. All three presidents are depicted as working against democracy, despite the fact that South Korea was a democratic country already. Although the movie uses colourful lights and music to perhaps lesson the shock of the portrayal of the little child being tortured, it almost left me shivering to see that(although it may be fictional) what the government has been doing led to such result. 

Furthermore, Hanmo, the barber’s obedient behaviours towards the government officials was almost as if he was obeying the king’s orders as if he was living in Joseon dynasty.  He was no more than a slave, and the atmosphere depicted in the movie was no different from North Korea; everything was censored and controlled. Nakan, on the other hand, portrays what democracy should actually be. He says what’s right in front of the president’s son, even in front numerous government officials. The society at the time, considered saying what’s right a revolution, and freedom of speech was banned. As the actor who seems to be Park Chung Hee states, he says that he does not like educated people. This implies that Park used the ignorance of naive citizens to gain power and dictatorship. Last scene in the movie where Hanmo tells the president to come back when he grows his hair implies his will to be ‘free’ and actually get to live in a democratic society. Although he gets beaten up, he is able to feel more comfortable. The film interestingly described the period that my grandparents and parents described to me, in a new perspective. 

The President's Barber & The Butler

  The comparisons have been made between The President's Barber and Forrest Gump, mostly referencing the similarities between two somewhat slow characters who were thrown into historical events without their knowledge as a means of telling a historical narrative from a (somewhat) neutral view point. However, I'd like to make the comparison between the President's Barber and the more recent film The Butler. The Butler was released in 2013, the true story of Cecil Gaines, the African American butler who served in the White House for 30 years under 8 different presidents during difficult times for the black population in the U.S. In the film, Cecil is present in the White House during the period of the Civil Rights Movement, MLK, the Vietnam War, Kennedy's assassination, and other major historical events. This is very similar to Han-mo's story in which he is exposed to political, historical events of the 1960's in South Korea from inside the Blue House while serving as the president's barber.

  In The Butler, Cecil is at one point asked if he is "political" to which he responds "no sir", a safe answer for an African American man in the U.S. at the time. This reminded me of Han-mo's tendency away from politics as he follows the instructions and opinions of his friends, participating in the rigged elections but not really knowing what was going on (in the flash still shots of the poll station in the black out, Han-mo just looks surprised and clueless). Another similarity is that in both films, the protagonists son gets much further involved into the politics of the country than his father, ironic since the fathers are personally serving the presidents. In The Butler, Cecil's son becomes a follower of Malcom X and a member of the Black Panthers, he is a Black activist ashamed of his father's position in the White House. In The President's Barber, although it is less of a pointed decision on the part of Nak-han, he still is thrown into politics in a way that his father never has been as he is captured and tortured by state police who suspect him as a spy. Comparing these two extremely similar films has made me wonder what the purpose of choosing a narrative like this is, choosing to expose history through the eyes of someone right next to it, but not quite involved in it. I think that both films are trying to use the protagonist as a middle ground in-between the state, who they serve, and the opposition, their sons - Cecil's son as a political and social activist and Nak-han as a representation of what happens to "the enemy." The film can then claim to take a neutral stance on the political, historical events, while still revealing the misgivings of the state at the time and not censoring the strong opposition that existed.

The President's Barber

The movie, The President’s Barber, is an interesting film that deals with South Korea’s dark period from 1960 to 1980 through the viewpoint of the barber’s son, Sung Nak-an. As Professor Cho mentioned in class, like in Forrest Gump, the audience see historic moments in South Korea through the eyes of the barber, Sung Han-mo. Han-mo, the main character, who is played by Song Kang-ho is a naïve person who just follows his associates without having his own view. After “Grandfather President” resigns after the April 19^th Student Movement in 1960, South Korean military take the opportunity to seize power by successfully launching a coup. As a result of this political event, General Park Chung-hee becomes the new president. At the same time, Han-no, who works as a barber in Hyoja neighborhood where the president resides in Blue House, becomes the President’s barber when Mr. Jang, President’s officer, orders him to work in the Blue House.

The film does an excellent job depicting the rivalry between Cha Ji-cheol, the Chief Presidential Bodyguard, and Kim Jae-gyu, the director of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency, which led to the assassination of President Park on October 26, 1979. One could guess that Jang Hyeok-su is the portrayal of Cha. For example, Jang reminds Han-mo that “President is the nation” the quote very often used by Cha. Also in the scene where Park Jong-man, the portrayal of Kim Jae-gyu, tells President Park that according to doctors, Marxus Disease is just a normal disease that has nothing to do with North Korean spies, Jang argues back by saying “We should first arrest those doctors” showing the hardline approach that Cha took which was in contrast with Kim Jae-gyu’s view.

Also it is interesting how the film portrays the relationship between President Park and his political actions imposed on South Korean citizens. It is surprising to see President Park as a gentle and soft-spoken character (human side unlike the typical image of a dictator who is heartless) who jokes with Han-mo and asks him “Have you seen and walked on the bridge that was built across the Han River?”. In the film, he is the president who has fun wearing sunglasses with Han-mo and who invites him for lunch at the Blue House. However, throughout the film, there are brutal repressions imposed by President Park such as tortures of innocent people including Mr. Wang and Mr. Choi who are accused of being in contact with communists. From observing this dual characteristic of President Park and his political actions, perhaps the charisma, the appealing personality, of a dictator is dangerous. 

Bio-politics Through Disease and Religion

 In the South Korean film, The President’s Barber, follows the story of a simple-minded barber who becomes a designated barber for the president of South Korea, Park Chung-hee.  Within the film, the Marxis disease serves a role that is similar to another South Korean film, Host, in which Song Kang-ho plays the protagonist just like in The President’s Barber.  The government explains how the disease was brought by North Korean spies and as a result anyone who contracted the disease was deemed to be affiliated with the “enemy”.  It is interesting to note how in the two films the government attempts to control the country with the use of a disease.  Another important thing to consider is the fact the film was released right after the SARS outbreak which occurred during 2002-2003.  The so-called Marxis disease in the film turns out to be just a form of E. Coli that was causing the diarrhea, but the government decided not to clear out the misconception to help clear off their opposition.  A form of bio-politics is strongly present in the two films, giving a different perspective to the notion of a pandemic.  The two films deal with their respective disease in a different manner, where in Host, the government instilled fear along with the monster could arguably be the objectification of such fear, and in the The President’s Barber, the ignorance of the public is taken advantage of resulting in neighbours ratting out each other with baseless accusations.  What both films demonstrate, however, is how a pandemic could give tremendous control on the government’s part, almost in a fashion where they are able to offset any public dissatisfaction, frustration, and opposition back to the public as mentioned in class.  The disease gives a leeway for the government to have control over the population as a body, when they give something that only exists as an ideology a physical presence in the form of a disease which is directly tangible with the human body.  In other words, a disease, like the ones from the film, provides the government a measure in which to not only influence the way the population think, but also exert some control towards the population’s body that is often considered to be private to that of an individual.  Thus, forcing individuality to be replaced by a form of collectivism that coincides with the government’s own interest.

Regarding Prof. Han’s talk on religious politics in Seoul, I was very intrigued how she linked religious politics with labour movements and ritualistic protests.  In a way, this is another form of biopolitics taking place.  When Prof. Han discussed on how small churches strived to keep its small community, to the extent of dividing its community into separate churches, this just seemed to me like a form of population control.  The manner in which Mega-churches receive their income through deceased members donating their lifesavings also appeared to be some form of population control through the ideologies presented by Christianity.  It’s also how interesting to see how Prof Han’s talk and Max Ward’s talk on national essence shares some resemblance regarding how an institution structures an ideology that enables to control and maintain their own population.  It is not surprising to finding a resemblance, I think because there is some sort of correlation with the rising national capital and the rise of scale of Mega-churches.        

[The President's Barber + Contentious Religious Politics in Seoul]

The film The President’s barber (2004) directed Lim Chan-Sang, introduces a story about the life of a barber, Sung Han-Mo, in Hyoja-dong (the administrative district where the Korean presidential residence is situated), also it is interesting to note that the narrative is the barber’s son, Nak-An. Although it is clearly stated at the beginning of the film that “The characters and events featured in this story are fictitious”, it is worth noting that the big political events mentioned in the film did occur in real life as well – for instance, the April Revolution, the rigged election during Rhee Seung-Man’s Regime, the military unit taking over the government, the Assassination of the president (Park Chung-hee) etc. Even though the stories are not purely factual, the plot allows the audience to get a brief overview of the political change in South Korea during the 1960s and 1970s. Throughout the flashback of Nak-An, the audience can easily figure out that Han-Mo is not a highly educated man in the upper class, but rather an everyday man belonging to the working class. Han-Mo does not have specific reasons for supporting the government (he simply believes the government is right, and so is his neighbor, Mr.Choi). Han-Mo gets involved in the process of illegal electioneering without acknowledging what he is actually doing – later when Nak-An gets arrested and get tortured for being suspected to have contacted the communists, Han-Mo mentions the word “democracy”; however based on his previous actions (fraudulent election), he does not seem to know what it actually means. By portraying Han-Mo, the viewers are able to get a sense of how ordinary/ working class people lack in awareness of political issues. While Han-Mo’s description as a man ignorance in politics is constantly shown, and his complete obedience towards the higher ranking officials, Han-Mo is the one to criticize president Park’s long years of dictatorship (although he did not mean it) – this also seemed satirical of the movie.

By reading the assigned article for this week, memory was another part to consider in the film – in particular the childhood memories of Nak-An (since the film’s narrator is the young Nak-An). Coming across the phrase “These are experiences which occurred in very early childhood and were not understood at the time but which were subsequently understood and interpreted” (149), it made me wonder why the director intended on using young Nak-An as the narrator instead of the grown-up Nak-An, or Han-Mo himself. Did Lim want to emphasize complete ignorance of what was happening? Furthermore, another question was regarding Nak-An’s aftereffect of torture – I don’t recall hearing the voice of the older Nak-An; did he also suffer from speech impediment? If he had suffered other aftereffects from the torture, perhaps his memory is not completely trustworthy as well.

             Last Friday, professor Ju Hui Han from University of Toronto visited McGill in order to give a talk about Contentious Religious Politics in Seoul. Since I have spent many years in Korea, I am aware of how visible and present Christians are, so the topic immediately grabbed my attention. When prof.Han showed visual aids that illustrated the approximate number of Churches in Seoul, and other parts of South Korea, it was indeed jaw-dropping. The concept of Mega churches were not new to me, but seeing the figures of congregation, the amount of financial asset the Chunghyeon Church, Yoido Full gospel Church, Gwanglim Church etc. had was phenomenal. As I am a Catholic, I’ve visited big/famous South Korean cathedrals like Myeong-dong Catholic Cathedral, but once I saw the pictures of the Mega Churches, Myeong-dong Cathedral seemed quite small in size. On the other hand, prof.Han also mentioned that some churches are splitting in order to keep a small number of congregation – the polarizing pattern of churches (either the Mega Church, or small-scale church) at the same period is definitely an intriguing fact. It was also interesting to note that only 18.3% were Protestants (2005) in South Korea. The Protestant population of Daejeon is not as high compared to Seoul, but they seemed to be present wherever I went. Plus, it is more common to see Protestant evangelists than those of Catholic or Buddhist. In fact, there are many evangelists group heading to other countries for mission work. Overall I really enjoyed the talk, and I look forward to attending more guest lectures! 

[The President's Barber]+Guest lecture

The President’s Barber, directed by Im Chan-sang, was released in 2004. It tells the story about a barber, his wife and their only son through the dark decades of Korean history. The interesting thing about this film was that its narrative touched on former president Park Chung-Hee. In history, he is known as a dictator, but on the other hand, he contributed to improving South Korea’s economic status. Under rule however, South Korea was a military dictatorship. The main character in the film, the barer Han-mo is in a position where he can observe these situations closely since he was personally chosen to be Park Chung-hee’s barber. During the dictatorship, his business fortunese dramatically, and through his eyes, the president is portrayed as a fairly nice admirable guy who really cares for his country.

What’s peculiar about Han-Mo is that he is such a simple man. He is not political, but he goes with the flow with his neighbours. Like other previous war films we have watched in class, it was interesting to see comedic relief during the dark times, and I found it ironic when the son, whose birth was linked with Park Chung-hee’s dominating power, recovered to walk again once the president in assassinated. This seemed to criticize the state of the Republic under Park Chung-hee.  

I found Professor Han’s talk last Friday so interesting since I have thought that religious power is similar to military power, as portrayed in the film, in a political perspective. Prof Han mentioned there are a great number of churches in Korea, almost uncountable. Its growth has been so spectacular that there was a joke that every fifth building is a church. As such, the scale of Korean mega church is so huge. For example, Chunghyeon Church, which is located in Gangnam, has assets valued at 885 million, land valued at 443 million. Those megachurches are not only spectacular in size but also phenomenal in wealth. In contrast, there are a lot of local churches, undominated by  megachurces, which are small in size and financially insecure. This current situation reflects not only divergent political theologies but also South Korea’s rising inequality. I think this is a serious problem as the religious power gets involved too much in financial scandals, legal troubles and disgraceful power struggles. What I am scared of is that these kinds of megachurge will eventually dominate the whole country and rule politics. 

The President's Barber

The President’s Barber (2004) is a film that illustrates the South Korean political scene during the 1960s and the 70s. Directed by Im Chan-Sang, the movie recounts the story of a barber who gets drafted to be the official barber of President Park Chung-hee.

In the movie, the progatonist makes an interesting analogy between a barber and a doctor. Historically, a barber would usually cut the hairs of soldiers and at the same time cure their wounds. However, in some sense, it is true that these two jobs are the only professions that allow to bring near knives and other cutting tools on a human body. With this also follows the responsibility and power to end someone’s life. The protagonist Han-mo could have easily killed the president during his work. However, he decides not to, reflecting his obedience and reserve towards authority.

His reserve is further reflected in the events that precedes the appearance of the “Margous” disease, a fictional diarrhea disease. This disease acts as a powerful tool in investigating and controlling the population. Han-mo takes his own son to the police station in order to show his obedience, but his son gets tortured until his legs become injured.  While his son is getting tortured, Han-mo and his wife are extremely worried for their only son gone missing. Yet, even though he has so many chances to talk to the president, he decides not to address the issue.

In my opinion, his reserve and obedience represents how the Korean population has suffered through the authoritarian rule of the 60s and the 70s. Even though economic improvements were vast, the effects on the society was cruel. 

Freud in a Barbershop

The President's Barber, viewed through a lens of Freudian psychoanalysis, becomes far more sinister and unsettling than it perhaps was meant to be seen.  On the surface, this film was (for me) a very interesting glimpse into what it meant to be a historical actor at a time of crucial juncture between past and present. If we try to understand the entire film as a process in remembering for Nak-an, some incredible psychological/temporal parallels can be drawn between Freud and Korean cinema. I thought this effect could be most fully seen by comparing what we are allowed to see, through Nak-an's narration, and what we are not allowed to see.

It struck me as no accident and no small decision to not show any of Nak-an's actual torture, framing it on both sides by the tickling, christmas lights scene on one hand, and his return to his parents' home on the other. What we do not see is the nucleus of the emotional aspect of the film, and we have only our imaginations to guide us. If we pull from Freud's statements about reliving and reshaping memory, one point stands out:  "There is one special class of experiences of the utmost importance for which no memory can as a rule be recovered. These are experiences which occurred in ver early childhood and were not understood at the time but which were subsequently understood and interpreted. One gains a knowledge of them through dreams and one is obliged to believe in them on the most compelling evidence provided by the fabric of the neurosis" (149).

Perhaps this can explain how the audience is supposed to recognize the gaps in visually recreated memory, they are events that were either repressed or so traumatic as to be completely beyond processing. In the skip from the scene with the Christmas lights (fun, funny, enjoyable) to the scene of returning home, what we miss is the event that ultimately gives Han-mo purpose, and is equally the point around which Nak-an's life revolves: it is a before and after. Maybe this is really how national memory works? In nationalist myths and tales of heroism gone by, generally things are characterized by "pre" or "post". The in-between is the most important part, however, it is where action and change truly occur. By skipping this in the film, visually, it seems to create a greater sense of thematic elision between before and after as well. Can we read this as a nod towards the importance of remembering what happened in the middle? That trauma/drama itself is important, not just the events leading up to or following it? Between cause and effect something else has to exist, and by not showing that to the audience, what do we have to do to come to conclusions?

The President's Barber: An ambiguous film?

To be honest when I first sat back and attempted to reflect on the film I was not entirely certain on what the message of the film was. Usually, as we spoke about in class. a film is an allegory, in which it is trying to covey a deeper central message through the narrative. Perhaps, my uncertainty was due to the food at Tuesdays screening. Although, the more likely explanation would be related to the main character Seong Han-mo. Han-mo’s character is honest, kind hearted, and a little bit slow. His passive nature and lack of knowledge about the political realm allows him to be a relatively impartial. Therefore, we do not see the film take a overwhelming bias toward any group. This relatively unbiased interpretation of the film’s political content is also very much due to the fact that the narration is performed by Nak-an, Han mo’s son. The voice of Seong Nak-an is very naive and childish with no personal opinions about the events that take place. Although, we do see the main character undergo physical trauma due to the irrational acts of the government. The narrator, instead of being angry or scarred, comments on how the electroshock torture was ticklish instead of painful. This neutralizes particularly negative emotions that could have arisen towards the government. In this example we see how comedy is also used to neutralizes the biased opinion of the characters in the film. The film does a relatively good job at presenting the events without having a take or opinion on these events.

Another aspect of the film I found relatively ambiguous in its message was the entire substoryline regarding the old monk/acupuncturist. The fact the the monk’s prophecy about Nak-an recovering due to eating “the eye of the dragon” was true was interesting. What was the point of this? What was the moral? You should always take advice from acupuncturist? Eastern medicine works? Perhaps, Nak-an drinking the ‘dragon eye soup’ was not what truly cured him. Perhaps, it was the devotion of a father to his son. The willingness of a father to do what is necessary to protect his family. This paternal relationship can be paralleled to the relationship between the President and the Nation. Once again actor Song Kang-ho embodies what every man should aim to be, especially the President. Honest, kind, uncomplicated and dedicated to his family.