Breaking the Convention?

The film "The Good, The Bad, and The Weird" is fascinating to watch because it is simply different from the other films that we had screened previously. The film much more resembles with the old western cowboy movie than the conventional Korean films that are set in the Japanese colonial period. The film instantly drew me to a question: why did the director produce the film as different as other Korean films set in the colonial period? I am going to mainly focus on the film setting and stylistic devices so to look at what breaks the convention.

I think the film director perhaps wanted to break the conventional image of the Japanese colonial Korea or Korean people. If we remember the films that had been screened in previous weeks, the locations are usually set in Japan or Korea. Those movies depict the people either Japanese or Koreans as well. For example, while the Japanese women wear kimonos and the Korean women wear hanboks (Korean traditional clothes) as shown in Radio Dayz.

On the other hand, the film location for "the Good, the Bad and the Weird", is set in the desert at Manchuria which is unusual for Korean films that are set in the colonial period. The location instantly gave me an exotic impression that is quite distant from the conventional image of the Japanese colonial period. It also gave me a cosmopolitan feeling as the film captures African or Caucasians or whomever neither Korean nor Japanese. The Characters never wear hanbok at all; especially, the three characters give the audience the impression of western cowboys or travelers. A lot of Korean films that are set in the Japanese colonial periods, I think they focus on the dichotomy of the Korean and Japanese cultural aspects as if they were only two nations during the colonial period. Furthermore, because of the discourse that Koreans criticize the Japanese exclusive domination of Korea as negative one, the Korean culture tends to make Japanese look bad or depict as if they are villains in many cultural contents such as contemporary soap operas and movies. However, in the film "the Good, the Bad and the Weird", the director dispersed lots of different interests such as nationalistic interests, Japanese imperial interests, pro-Japanese collaborators’ interests or personal wealth-gaining interests. All these interests are aligned to focus on the map that directs to the Qing dynasty’s secret vault. In the film, anybody is neither extremely good nor extremely evil. At the end of the film, the Japanese soldiers are depicted very unwise and naive. By aligning all of the characters’ interests, the film breaks the convention of the dichotomy of Japanese and Korean that is usually depicted in other Korean films that are set in the Japanese colonial period. 

Nation/Home, and Violence Paired with Modernity

The Good, the Bad, and The Weird is a highly fast-paced and entertaining movie about the quest for a treasure map and its subsequent treasure, apparently marking the way to a Manchurian treasure dating back to the Qing Dynasty. In the film, elements of melodrama (close-up shots of faces showing dramatic moments) and Western films (horses, deserted lands, riding alongside trains, hats, wanted ads) intersect with comedy and colonial notions (Japanese as bad guys).

Right off the bat I noticed something very evident: violence is often paired with happy or care-free objects or ideas, like candy and music--for instance, in the opening scene, a candy and rice-cake vendor on the train becomes a bandit in a flash, shooting at innocent victims. In another scene, after the Boss (does he have a name?) stabs his own boss, the victim drags himself across the floor with a knife in his back, while happy ragtime music sounds from a record in the background.

I soon realized that it was not just care-free or happy elements paired with violence, but modern care-free and happy elements. In many scenes, the violent subject is shown chewing gum (definitely a recent commodity); modern music plays in the background. The Boss optimizes this notion of pairing violence with happy modernity. His character in general feels like a total anachronism--first of all, I don't know much about K-Pop but this is how I imagine a lot of K-Pop hair styles (like the lead singer from Big Bang?). I doubt anyone from this era wore his hair style. He's totally modern, from the way he dresses and styles his hair, to the activities he partakes in--laughing to Western films in the theatre (and apparently understanding English).

The notion of the nation gets brought up, too. When Yoon Tae-go discovers that his map is a treasure map (which is expressed in goofy discovery reminiscent of YMCA Baseball Team baseball discovery), he proposes to his Granny that they can escape to America with the treasure. He begins speaking French--and the scene is suddenly interrupted by gunshots shattering the window panes. I can't help but think of this as a sort of punishment, or Karma, for desiring an escape to the west. Later in the movie, Yoon Tae-goo changes his dream as he talks to his "accomplice": once he gets the treasure, he'll go "back home" and get some land, raising animals on his farm. His sidekick is confused; can't he want more than that? Why would you want to buy land that is  part of a stolen country? He adds, "Life is about chasing and being chased, you can't escape." Even in a serious moment, Yoon Tae-goo lightens the atmosphere, telling him to go to bed and not to make him think too much. Yoon Tae-goo never gets to hear his side-kick's dream, because he drifts into sleep before he can finish his sentence.

We are all one!

So this film is hardly the best example of looking into the real history of Modern Korea – jokingly inserted anachronistic persona and props, the director seems to have a good time playing/teasing ignorant.

But a film, in general, is not held responsible of misinterpreting history, or even fabricating its own – it is history enlarged, animated and fictionalized. I found the perspective of “The Good, the Bad and the Weird” rather engaging because it seems to take no stance at all – almost as a documentary quality of recording three characters (there were even some intentional shaky follow-ups and camera abuse) Even the bad guy, with little moral principle is shown in a mildly sympathetic light. This applies to the Japanese, the collaborators, the theft and the killer – “all singing, all dancing cLap of the world,” of this farce, borrowed from Tyler Durden.

Indeed, compared to “From Wonso Pond” when presenting class division, social gap and national identity crisis “The Good, the Bad and the Weird” devotes an effort too meager to be taken seriously – but it was not a time of reason, either. (Professor Ward mentions the cleansing mentality through labor and intellectual censorship – ironically, Communism was the leading force of (South) Korean independence back then). I understand and admire Kang Kyong Ae’s passion but I hardly see her work could widely appeal modern readers, Korean or otherwise.

Surely we need both for documentation and reflection, but then when I think of it – remembering in a scene when the cart is filled with blond, black and brother Cath, the question would be: will there be a time that we become unsure of our nationalities again? I am all for Italia.

Modernization in the opportunity land and Imperial Sovereignty

The movie “The Good, the Bad, the Weird” by Kim Jee-Woon depicts the incident among the three Korean guys in Manchuria. Similarly, the reading “Escape” by Ch’oe Seohae also depicts the story of Korean diasporas in Manchuria. In 1930s, after Koreans lost their country to Japan, they started to move to Manchuria because Manchuria was the land of opportunity. Also Manchuria was important place for independence fighter because it was their main headquarter during this period. Yoon Tae-Goo probably moved to Manchuria for his new opportunity like the protagonist, Pak in the reading; however he finds it just as economically bleak and economically divided as Korea, so he decided to become robbery to get better life and found a treasure map in the train. Both Japanese soldiers and Korean Independence fighter tried to get the map because they both think that the money can end up with this colonization which means Japan can suppress the independence movement and independence fighter can make their group bigger, get more weapons, and get more power to eliminate Japanese from their country. I thought that the map symbolizes Koreans only hope that they can bring their country back. Finally the bad guy Park Chang-E died and I thought that the bad never beat the good which reminds me that Japan finally got their punishment when they were defeated in war.

Unlike the previous movies that we watched, the director focused on western genre because the title of movie is based on the western movie called “The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly” in 1966. While I was watching this movie, I could easily notice that the background of the movie is after the modernization. When you look at the characters’ clothes, they were not wearing Korean traditional clothes anymore. The good guy Park Do-Won was wearing like a cowboy and the bad guy Park Chang-E was wearing a suit. Also, the weird Yoon Tae-goo was riding a motorcycle instead of horse.

           On Friday, the guest speaker talks about the Imperial Sovereignty and Colonial Violence. He introduced the Peace Preservation Law which is a series of law enacted during the Empire of Japan in 1925 to 1945. In 1925, “Anyone who has formed an association with altering the Kokutai,or the system of private property, and anyone who has joined such an association with full knowledge of its object, shall be liable to imprisonment with or without hard labour, for a term not exceeding ten years;” however, in 1928 it revised to the law, raising the maximum penalty from 10 years to death because the Japan Communist Party prompted “red scare” and which led to March. 15 Incident. Many Japanese were mentioned that communism as “dangerous thought activities” and emphasized that Kokutai is absolute. This law was also enacted in colony such as Korea; however, it was slightly different in which Korea uses alter Kokutai and denied pivate property system.

A Necessary Alliance

This week, since we are going to be discussing From Wonso Pond (FWP) and The Good, the Bad and the Weird (GBW), I wanted to look at the idea of partnership and alliance, codependence, unwilling or willing. I really enjoyed GBW, I loved its genre-bending aspects and thought each of the three central figures met the expectations of their respective adjectives in funny but meaningful ways. In FWP, though, the alliances and partnerships are a little bit harder to pin down. Ch'otchae and Sinch'ol, along with Kannan and Sonbi, seemed to embrace the idea of alliance, but in the novel we don't get the sort of easy categorization provided by the title of the film. These two pairs of characters also don't really fall into alliance until quite far along in the book, although they all know each other from the first dozen chapters or so. In GBW, Yoon Tae-goo and Park Do-won take on a tentative alliance mostly because they see it as a means to an end, and they share few moments of real connection save their heart-to-heart by the campfire. The affirmations that "every Korean has a sad story", and "for guys like us, it's no different under nobility or Japan", tie them together in identity even when they are separated by values and goals. This film is unabashed in vilifying the Japanese, or at least in identifying them as a force of antagonism, and in my reading, that gave all three of the main characters a distinctive Korean identity.

The force of antagonism in FWP is slightly harder to identify, and the novel's pacing is quite tempered for the first three-quarters or so, which means almost all the 'political' events and developments happen very quickly and have little (or no) time to resolve themselves. The main shift is from rural to urban, and once this occurs, characters who previously had no alliances are forced to make them wherever they can find them. Sonbi, who has previously been suspicious and sad about Kannan and her choices, understands the latter finally, and they help each other to make the best out of their tragic situations. I was left a little unsure of what/who Kannan was loyal to, and where she escaped to when she left the factory. The references to class consciousness struck me as vague in some ways, though maybe I wasn't reading closely enough.  Similarly, Sinch'ol's tale of imprisonment and conversion was left fairly open-ended, and Ch'otchae's last-second realization of the realities of capitalism and those same class dynamics were a little overwhelming considering how subtle they had been in the novel up to that point. At any rate, by the end it seemed as though Sonbi, Ch'otchae and Kannan were all at the cusp of some kind of rebellion, though we never find out exactly what it is and not everyone survives. So, alliance serves a similar purpose in the novel and the film, for mutual benefit rather than a strong sense of shared ideals, but apart from that I have more questions than conclusions.

Do we see anything in the fact that the Bad was the only one who died in the shootout? What will happen between the Weird and the Good? Is Manchuria a sort of purgatory? Who is Kannan working with and will Ch'otchae ever have enough money or find a girlfriend? Can we see anti-capitalism as the same as a promotion of communism? What kind of politics are insinuated by the exposure of working-class struggle/the oppression and abuse of women? Is Okchom a modern woman?? I am excited to hear everyone's ideas because I feel there is a lot to say about both works.

The Consumption of a Narrative

Radio Days, directed by Ha Ki-Ho, is a lighthearted comedy film that takes place during the Japanese occupation where the Japanese officials were inclined on the concept of naisen-ittai (Japan and Korea as a single body) through the use of radio.  This is most prevalent when the Japanese official puts pressure into changing the ending of the radio drama, “Flames of Love”, which has incited massive popularity into something that benefits the Japanese hegemony. It is interesting to note the ongoing narrative within the narrative structure of the film how the story within the story is the determining factor of the overall plot of the film.  Due to this structure, one is able to see the production of a story and the feedback it receives from the audience.  Basically, the film explores the meta-dimension of story-telling from the making of a narrative to how it is consumed by the characters in the film and how its feedback in turn shapes and mold the narrative and it repeats itself.  This is most prevalent with whom the protagonist of the “Flames of Love” will choose: the modern woman character who is highly educated and self-absorbed or the character that represents the perfect Korean bride.  In this clash of modernity and tradition, it is important to note that the vast majority of the characters within the film preferred the latter over the modern woman with a sense of nostalgia or longing.  This is seen when K discusses the story with his group of political activist and the wife of Mr. Noh expressing their hope that the latter will win the romantic race.  In the end, the mass populace got the ending they desired after the producer, Lloyd and his companies’ succeed in mitigating the proposed Japanese propaganda.  It is hard to say whether the radio drama narrative is trying to represent the resistance the general population has over modernization or whether they are longing for what was lost through modernization.  

Lenin Amaya

Korean Radio Drama in Japanese Colonial Radio Station

Set in 1930s, Radio Dayz vividly describes a comical event of the Korean radio actors performing perhaps Korea’s first hit radio drama show called “The Flames of Love.”

Kyongson Broadcast Corporation was established in 1927 (Robinson 52) in order for the Japanese government to implement cultural assimilation by spreading Japanese-language use and Japanese cultural values in Korea (52). Radio stations, clearly under tight control by the colonial government, played a crucial role in naisen ittati (Japan and Korea as a single body) cultural assimilation campaign (52-53). However, the same radio stations created “through the entertainment programming, a unique cultural space: a space that contradicted the cultural and political assimilation programs” (53).

Lloyd Park’s first radio drama show in Korea is one such case. Organized by Lloyd, written by Mr. Noh, performed by Man-chul, Marie, Myung-wol, and K, this melodrama which is centered around a love triangle, not only creates a modern, popular culture in colonial Korean society, but also “unintentionally” undermines Japanese cultural hegemony by  “maintaining Korean art forms with strong emotive ties to Koreans of all classes” (54) and strengthening Korean cultural identity.

 “The Flames of Love” is not just performed by Korean actors and actresses, but it is also aired in Korean language, not Japanese! Even though there is no overt nationalist sentiment in the series, this popular drama serves a positive function of creating Korea’s own dramatic art genres. Also, K, a nationalist who works for a secret underground independence movement organization, sees a radio as a means for “Korean cultural consciousness in Korea, and more broadly, the world” (55). It is interesting how K desires to spread the message that Korea is oppressed by Japanese colonialists by using the radio system, one of symbolic representations of Japanese cultural assimilation policy.