Tell Me Something (Telmisseomding, 1999)

Tell Me Something gets off the starting block with a series of grizzly discoveries. Dismembered bodies are being dropped off around Seoul on a rainy night. When Detective Jo (Han Suk-kyu) and his partner Detective Oh (Jang Han-seong) are called in to handle the case, they can hardly imagine what they're stepping into. Shortly after meeting with the Medical Examiner, the detectives discover that the body parts found do not belong to one particular corpse. In short order, another round of corpses turn up (in some pretty strange places) and Detectives Jo and Ho put together a special team, on order from the police commissioner, to catch this serial killer, who's victims seem to be connected to the daughter of a famous Korean artist. Her name is Chae Su-yeon (Shim Eun-ha). Su-yeon and her roommate Seungmin (Jung-ah Yum; H, Tale of Two Sisters) are soon under the protection & watchful eye of the police, with Su-yeon being taken into protective custody when a new boyfriend is (partially) found after a night out with Su-yeon. Things get more complicated when Detective Jo finds himself developing feelings for Su-yeon. Her quiet, guarded manner forces Detective Jo to comb through her entire life, and make Su-yeon relive a past she would rather forget, to find connections with people she has known and the murders. Su-yeon soon tires of the interviewing and questioning and refuses to talk anymore. She returns to her home. The list of suspects grows... The murderer gets aggressive...

Firstly, I want to address/refute the plot hole factor. There is a fairly obvious jump that needs to be made concerning Detective Ho and an integral part of the investigation. Something that was most likely cut for continuity reasons or time constraints concerning Detective Ho making the connection between the killer and a certain apartment, is more or less overblown. By itself, it may stick out, but due to the film's complex story-line and fully realized characters it's an easy jump to make, even after a few viewings. I'll wager that it goes unnoticed, even after multiple viewings.

There's also said to be "motivation issues" with a character or two, but again, any reasonable viewer can make the connections, as they're deftly handled through a short flashback sequence near the end and an overall impressive screenplay. Besides, it's not like Tell Me Something is a docudrama. The film's revelation stands firm with what precedes it, no question in my mind. The fact that Tell Me Something can lay everything on the table and allow us to participate, makes the ending more dynamic and powerful. Yet it challenges us to choose our suspect and work it out for ourselves as we watch, speaks volumes. The obvious choice is most certainly the right one, veteran crime & mystery fans will know what's what right away. Good 'ol Occam's Razor.

Although this slow-burner (a healthy runtime of 118 minutes) is essentially a movie that tells you something and then tries to dissuade you with oh so much powerful gore and an intense dramatic elements. It's definitely made in a Hollywood-esque way and was a smash hit for S. Korean Film in 1999. Killer cinematography adds whole new dimensions to the film; bright, airy days & damp, inky nights. Add the powerful, ethereal humming from Enya's "Boadicea" as well as tunes from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and Placebo (who's album cover makes its way into the film), and Yoon-Hyun Chang's mysterious, murderous world comes alive. On the inside it's a gruesome, brutal crime-thriller. On the outside, it's a stylish, bizarre, almost arty film noir. A must see in any event.

Grizzly Man (2005)

Let me start by admitting that the film's fascination factor is very high, in general. But don't get me wrong, its content is harrowing, gripping, and sad, yet can be described and both mondo and functionally educational. Werner Herzog himself narrates the epic travels of grizzly bear activist Timothy Treadwell, along with his friend and companion Amie Huguenard, as they spend months at a time in the Alaskan wilderness themselves documenting the plight, and their fascination with, the Alaskan grizzly. Rather than re-recount what happens, here's my take:

I don't tend to dismiss or minimize Treadwell's passion for "his" bears, in fact, it's something to be celebrated on a certain level. A passion his friends and acquaintances will readily and profusely corroborate, and one that comes through in his own words and video diaries. It's quite obvious he felt deeply for those bears — however misplaced those feelings were. As Herzog himself points out on multiple occasions, Treadwell lost the ability to differentiate between humans and the animals he spent time and was infinitely fascinated with. One thing that bothered me about Treadwell's video confessions was the characterization of his presence as "research". Now I have no doubt he believed his observations were genuinely professional, but the reality was that he was simply a layman. An actual expert based on Kodiak Island put this into glaring perspective. His sobering analysis couldn't be more at odds with Treadwell's cavalier behavior. On top of this, even Herzog himself provides a chilling commentary late in the film concerning the very bear that probably killed Treadwell which provides an insight that most would be aware of but Treadwell seemed to miss completely. Or one he ignored.

His attitude also flew in the face of the reality in which he was living; one that manifested into the worst of all possible conclusions. He was pompous and arrogant at times toward the very environment he claimed to hold in the highest regard. Treadwell was clearly manic-depressive, if not a touch insane. Fascination turned to empathy, which morphed into a sort of pity. Treadwell's outbursts toward the Department of Wildlife and his friends and colleagues only fed his mania. Was he someone who never grew up mentally and/or emotionally? Lost in his own world? A daydream believer? There's nothing wrong with having ideals, but hubris can lead to grave mistakes

"No one knows where I am. Even I don't know where I am." – T. Treadwell

I have no doubt that audiences took Treadwell at his word when he declared he would rather die in the wilderness than return to the world he once knew, — those being his time in California — a definitive and self-fulfilling prophecy. In the end though, both his own and Huguenard's death can only be described as tragic. This film has the gravitas to teach as well as mystify, and really should be experienced if you're not faint of heart. The film's final scenes are particularly poignant and sobering. Honestly, I sort of wanted Treadwell's friend and confidante Jewel Palovak to make the audio tape available to Herzog (accompanied by a warning no doubt) but at the same time it's probably best it wasn't. The film stands as a masterwork nonetheless.

EM: Embalming (Embamingu, 1999)

Embamingu is a murder mystery/thriller-esque film where a high school student named Yoshiki Shindo, (Masatoshi Matsuo; he plays Toshio Yabe three years later in Kyoshi Kurosawa's Kairo), who mysteriously falls from a building and dies. We join the film as Detective Hiraoka (Yutaka Matsushige) is surveying the scene from the rooftop. He calls a friend, who happens to be the local hospital's embalmer, Miyako Murakami (Reiko Takashima) to witness a freshly dead body, which for some reason she has wanted. Miyako's morbid fascination aside, the skeptical detective prefers to treat the case as a murder and thus begins the long, winding road into EM Embalming.

In short order we're treated to an up close and personal look at the embalming process as Miyako and her assistant (a role deftly handled by fellow director Seijun Suzuki; Pistol Opera) poke and prod the life-like corpse with scalpels and heavy machinery designed to empty and replace the body's blood supply. A powerful local Buddhist Chief named Jion inserts himself into the fray on behalf of Yoshiki's family to denounce the embalming process as sacrilege, completely against Buddhist Doctrine. But Jion's motives are less than honorable or straightforward. He attracts much attention after Yoshiki's head is stolen off of the body, which is still at the hospital. And one of Yoshiki's girlfriends, who had serious issues of her own, becomes a player in the game when she turns up, first at the crime scene, and then with what appears to be Yoshiki's doppelganger. Things really get complex when Detective Hiraoka follows up on a tip concerning the trafficking of human body parts and a reclusive, discredited surgeon named Mr. Fuji is implicated in the illegal trafficking.

How and why was the son of a powerful city councilman killed? Who is behind it? Miyako & Detective Hiraoka will put their careers and lives on the line to crack the case and expose the truth.

Embalmingu is a tough nut to crack, review-wise. It raises questions about the ethically of embalming in the guise of a thriller/crime drama. It's rather weak premise facilitates an argument that the movie has with itself concerning which is right, the practice of embalming or the Buddhist way of letting the physical body return to the Earth naturally. At the root of EM's message is a timeless question and one everyone has wrestled with at some point: What does is mean to die and is there a 'correct' way to handle the human body? Catholics have a fairly strict set of criteria, Buddhists have their own criteria, as do Christians in general. Where does science fit in? Or should it?

EM tackles this issue head on, albeit in a sloppy, sometimes haphazard manner. At one point, I likened EM to a lengthy public service announcement. It's half-hearted screenplay/dialogue often seems as if it were written by the Public Relations Department of Japan's Embalming Concern. I made that department up, but only to illustrate my point. There are several instances where the "advocacy" for embalming became heavy-handed and sort of preachy. Miyako, obviously, is fairly cavalier about preserving the body for those extra few days for funeral purposes and for family closure; she's the "pro" voice. Jion is the more traditional voice, as he quotes Buddhist teachings and even though his motives cast a suspecting shadow on the weight of this view, he's is the opposing view in this movie. The youth in the film seem to be completely clueless to what embalming is, yet strive to embrace it, and the movie seems to step up in a manner as to serve as their professor. When Yoshiki dies, Rika believes she can be reunited with him through embalming; believing that he can be reanimated or something. Kind of ridiculous, isn't it. You'll get used to it with EM.

That's not to say it's a bad movie, by any means. Fans of bloody, stomach turning gore will jump for joy. At one especially gruesome point during the opening scene, we see the busted skull being packed, with what appears to be cotton, and then dried and the section of bone replaced. Miyako and her assistant (who looks like the classic old, wise, white-haired sensei of yore) perform Yoshiki's embalming under the close scrutiny of the camera. I can't describe the realism of the corpse up there on the embalming table other than "cringe-inducing & spine-shivering". Some of the gore is a tad cheesy, but thankfully stops short of being comical. The major problem I have with EM is that most of the movie's revelations occur during a long-winded diatribes that had me rolling my eyes and wishing the writers would have cut some of the redundancies and used that time to develop those via action and genuine character development. Also, some of the sub-plots had me just wondering, "Why?". Particularly the "Miyako's father" stuff. I suppose it was meant to be that character development I spoke of earlier, but I felt that particular angle was slightly unnecessary and superfluous. The scenes themselves are necessary though. You'll see why.

In closing, Embamingu is definitely a unique, but flawed, film that raises great questions about life & death, and attempts to take a stand. I can't argue with EM's pluckiness and even though it's not my particular brand of horror, it's worth a look...or two; so as to allow some of it to make a little more sense.

8 1/2 (8½ or Otto e mezzo, 1963)

8½ opens in a dream. Or maybe more precisely, a daydream. A man is stuck in heavy traffic. Not a car is moving. It's utter gridlock. It appears that most everyone in close proximity is deeply focused on him, with the exception of a car or two and in short order, his car begins to fill with smoke. He begins to choke and tries to escape the car but cannot. He struggles with the latches, but has to crawl out a window. Then he proceeds to float above the gridlocked traffic and into the sky, where he notices a rope tied to his ankle and a man below is basically flying him like a kite. The man is actually trying to pull him to the ground. The man in the sky reaches to liberate his leg from the rope, wishing to float away free. But the dream ends.

Guido is a mollycoddled famous director who we find, in the beginning of the film, being pampered and who's "well being" is being scrutinized by a room full of attendants. I'm tempted to do a straightforward account as if this were a simpler film, but 8½ is a film about the making of a film and simultaneously, what seems to be, a real-time documentary about said film about a film. But I don't think that's complex enough. A fourth dimension to add might be the context of Federico Fellini's actual life is being played out above and beyond that. Fellini does a pretty fine job at intertwining those threads, with an emphasis on his self-examination. He lays it all out there. He may have benefited more from a Freudian examination.

The tortured and eternally frustrated director seems to be at a crossroads in his career. He's on the cusp of his biggest film to date. The only problem is he doesn't seem to be inspired or motivated to make it. He seems willing to play the roll of director, but hardly seems to enjoy getting his hands dirty anymore. All day, everyday, he carries a pained look on his face as he has to fend off his anxious producer or evade countless wanna-be actors or has-been actresses. It doesn't help that the perfect lead actress isn't the one he's been seeing behind his wife's back. On top of juggling his mistresses (of which he's alternately tired and inspired to do), he's constantly getting his ass kissed by staff who have relatives sprouting from everywhere to get in on the film. It begins to pain him to have to meet with his staff, his producers, or longtime friends in the industry who find it difficult to associate with Guido because "he's changed".

What's amazing about 8½ is that it's extraordinarily well thought out and meticulously planned. For all the soul searching going on and questions being raised, the film uses Guido's past and several delusional/male fantasies to answer them. Just as a something to ponder comes up, it's addressed. After all, it his his film. But, as segmented and, dare I say, somewhat dissatisfying as that aspect is, it comes off as clever and insightful. I love how Guido seems to always be in a state of reflection, but at the same time, he conducts himself as though the past doesn't exist. He comes off quite self-centered and arrogant; which to those around him choose to accept as charm. But his closest friends & family have become weary of Guido's childish exploits. In a twisted sort of way, I think that's what motivates and inspires him.

Those first few minutes of 8½, in my opinion, is essentially the entire film encapsulated in dream form. I found that fascinating. For the entire movie to be fully effective though, it might have dispensed with what I consider to be an ending that may have appeared to be the elocution the film built up to, but was actually as evasive and nonchalant as Guido was to his wife. I believe his wife was the voice of reason in the film, but was once again, patronized and handed a bill of goods from her husband. Which makes his revelation all the more disingenuous. The journey of Guido (Fellini) into absolution has him remaining the self-centered person he truly is and at the risk of losing his marriage and career, conjures up a moment of lucidity to pacify his wife's contempt. It would be a beautiful thing indeed if it wasn't just a defense mechanism which only enables Guido's ego. Sadly, his revelation is for the benefit of himself, and maybe also for his adoring audience. The irony is, that I didn't (or wouldn't have) expected anything less. How could I?

A brilliant and deep film that is resolute and steadfast with it's content, but can surely mean many different things depending on the viewer.

Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl (Samehada Otoko to Momojiri Onna, 1999)

Now rating as one of the most awesome movies I have ever seen, Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl opens as a maid at a low rent motel is being urged by a coworker, who has just now quit, to follow suit and leave that stale, remote hotel. Toshiko, the maid (a wonderful Sie Kohinata) is likes what she hears but is reluctant because it would mean abandoning her uncle Michio, who runs the joint. Shortly thereafter Toshiko discovers her uncle has "invested" her personal savings (as he has control over her finances for some reason...), she packs a bag and climbs out a window — leaving her uncle to waste away with his precious motel.

Cut to a guy named Kuroo Samehada (Tadanobu Asano) who has just stolen a serious amount  of money from the yakuza (which I take he now was a part of) and is currently being tracked to, but now chased from, a cabin in the woods where he's hold up. He flees the scene in little more than his tighty-whiteys. Now cut back to Toshiko fleeing the hotel life. Who should she run into? You guessed it.

Leadership by example.

Katsuhito Ishii's Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl if funny, quirky, action–packed and has wit and style to spare. It also features one of the most unique gang of characters I have ever witnessed. From the salaryman yakuza boss (Susumu Terashima) who collects rare soft drink tins, to his overly style–conscious ingrate son who employs his nose like a dog and is petrified that his bullet-proof white leather coat will get dirty or wet. Add in a trio of hapless wanna-be hangers-on, and a gut–busting gay assassin (Tatsuya Gashuin) who's hired by Michio to retrieve his niece. All this and a full cast of ill-mannered associates. How could you go wrong, I ask?

The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is Known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion (2004)

"When you're poor, they call you crazy; when you're rich, you're eccentric." So recites one of 3 former neighbors (and apathetic friends) of one Henry Darger, a shut-in Chicago novelist who may have written America's longest, most fantastic literary self-examination. Writer/director and documentarian Jessica Yu (The Living Museum, American Dreams) attempts to breathe life into another obscure artist, as with 1998's Living Museum, in which patient/artists residing at Creedmoor Psychiatric Center in Queens, New York showcase their in-house gallery. Her 2004 effort brings us west, to the then budding metropolis called Chicago.

Darger's magnum opus, and the central theme of the film, began to materialize for him around the time he left the military and secured his first apartment in 1930. The culmination of Darger's suppressed, stunted childhood is a grandiose performance of the author's life and personal struggles; a fiction/fantasy tale of seven young girls named The Vivian Girls (as in part of its full title: The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion). The Girls live at the epicenter of an epic revolt against adults that enslave children; a tale derived directly from Darger's own childhood living at an institution in Lincoln, Illinois. This "state farm" was in essence a working farm for children with strict rules and ten-hour working days where beatings were handed out regularly.

The book consumed a major part of the final 40 years of Darger's life, with most writings outside his massive "15,000-page" tome turning out to be less than interesting. One of which is a 10-year, daily chronicle of weather observations so as to rebuke the accuracy of a Chicago weather forecaster. In the end, it's Darger's wildly inventive and eclectic illustrations, which accompany his epic story, that makes this story what it is. The film is definitely worth a look, and is in line with more publicized documentaries like Devil and Daniel Johnston.

Kourei (Seance, 2000)

While I certainly appreciate a good remake, it's also my belief that people should first and foremost take them for what they are — homages to their source film. That's being said, there are two legitimate reason for seeing this film: as a compare/contrast piece against Bryan Forbes' 1964 thriller Seance on a Wet Afternoon (would make for an interesting double feature), and more importantly Kiyoshi Kurosawa's direction. If you're not familiar with the other Kurosawa, or you're dying to get into Asian Horror, this is as good a place as most to cut your teeth.

Opening in the city, a small girl is (not so easily) coaxed from a playground by a stranger for the purposes of ransom. Cut to one Sato (Koji Yakusho of Doppleganger, Cure, and Kairo fame — I am, after all, watching this in the United States...), a humble sound technician, who ventures into the countryside to record natural sounds for a coworker in his studio, upon where he unknowingly takes possession of the girl originally kidnapped. Things become far more complex down the line when Sato's wife Junco, a self–described medium, involves her acquaintance Hayasaka —  paranormal studies student who often works in tandem with the police.

Both films are based on a Mark McShane suspense short story by the same name. Kourei, originally released to television, adopts a slower, more methodical style, which Kurosawa juices up with touches of Japanese folklore — remaining true to his style, as well allowing the movie to progress on its own accord. There are several tense and frightening moments, there's no question Kurosawa employs his somewhat trademark mix of confusion and fright — a style which appeared as far back as his 1992 gem The Guard from the Underground.

So needless to say, the direction is great. There's a particular scene inside the Sato home where Kurosawa uses alternating planes of lightness and darkness, in varying distances among the doorways which makes for a spine-tingling scene. It borders on, not only directorial, but film greatness. Don't ask me why, but it's just brilliant. The telling of the story, while staying faithful to the crux of the original, does, (I say regrettably), lose a bit of punch with the addition of the horror aspects. Some essential action and substance is replaced with Japanese elements that quite frankly detract from an already suspenseful story. Then again, I tell myself that it was made for a Japanese audience, not unlike the American Grudge remake — sensibilities bound by geography.

Doppelganger (2003)

In the open, the such described Doppelganger Production Committee asks its audiences: "What would you do if you ran into your perfect double, your "doppelganger" - someone who looks exactly like you?" In classic thriller fashion, the opening proceeds with added violins a-screeching and horns a-pulsing, yet this self-described "most frightening film yet" plays more like a hallucinatory, intellectual endeavor than that of the straight tingler the tag–line portends.

Doppelganger jumps to and fro between concurrent story-lines. Firstly, we see a woman, later known to us as Yuka (Hiromi Nagasaku), leaving a home improvements store as she waves to her brother Takashi, who appears to be aimlessly wondering theough the store's parking lot. Yuka offers him a ride back to the house they share (while he's studying), but he all but ignores her calls. Yuka returns home to a phone call which informs her that her brother, whom she has just seen, is at the area hospital...deceased! This, of course, is a shock. But, a now confused Yuka notices that Takashi is sitting in the next room, writing away on his computer.

Cut to an engineer named Hayasaki (the great Koji Yakusho). He's an idea-man at a large electronics company working to perfect his lasted project — an so–dubbed artificial body that will revolutionize the lives of the paralyzed. After a successful first series of tests for the company board, to secure further funding, Hayasaki is then criticized over the pace of the project and asked to either finalize the design or accept a do–nothing management position and let someone else finish his work. He, of course, refuses. Frustrated and insulted, Hayasaki heads home...  only to discover he's already there! The film then vacillates between Hayasaki's and Yuka's stories until a point when they find themselves sitting on opposite sides of the same table. How can they help each other?

Doppelganger is truly fantastic. Many will disagree. Kiyoshi Kurosawa isn't known to just slap together a film without purpose, and after a couple of viewings the brilliance dawned on me. Beyond the notion of a doppelganger in the first place, a duality erupting into being (under abnormal or stressful circumstances) and what is to be done in this event lies at the film's epicenter. What's even more outstanding is that the movie itself acts as the character which leads. The first half is tense, ambitious, and wrought with friction. It's dark. The latter half is quite different — one might say the opposite of the first. It spins irreverent, lively, and comedic — filled with light and life. Dare I say meaning?

Doppelganger is a much deeper film than most may be willing to give it credit for being, but none could argue its originality. I laughed out loud at the crazy times and gasped at every swing of some object bound for a certain lead character's cranium. A bold piece of work.