Tuesday, March 8, 2011

on POETRY - 시 (2009) by Lee Chang-dong


Appreciation can only match depth, and it only matters what the viewer carries before going in to see this film; let’s assume that the viewer understands Korea—has experienced it and has some knowledge of it—experienced some form of abuse like rape, molestation, harassment—any form of physical trauma or an unwelcome invasion (which, realistically speaking, is more common among people than not), is a feminist to some degree, either theoretically or just unwittingly so, and finally, understands poetry in all mediums—literature, cinema, music and art.

I’ve been a fan of Lee Chang-dong (Secret Sunshine, Oasis) because of his films' intense realism.
Poetry is completely real, unforgivingly so. I was at a screening of Straight to Hell the other night. Director Alex Cox quoted Paul Lewis, saying, “Film is a punishment inflicted on people who seek entertainment.” This is true. I like movies that do this. I cannot sufficiently express my disgust for films that cause escapism.

On Lack of Music

The main thing I was struck by in Poetry is the lack of music. Music often acts as a vehicle to the audience’s emotions, shifting and directing moods of viewers. Music is the most controlling element in the cinematic experience, and I can’t agree more with Jarmusch’s statement on how he much dislikes films where the music “hijacks the mood” of a moment. The lack of music in this movie was what made the experience so close and real. Lee doesn’t coddle his audience. He strips his product down bare and forces the viewers to look at life as we know and live it.

On Poetry and Man and Woman

The film begins with the death of a 16-year-old girl (whose communion name is “Agnes”) who committed suicide by throwing herself into a river and drowning. She’d left behind a diary, which includes details on a series of rape crimes she’d experienced on school grounds—specifically the lab room—by a group of six teenaged boys.

The protagonist is a 66-year-old woman, Mija, who is suffering from the first stages of Alzheimer’s and taking poetry classes at the local culture center. She receives a small government stipend and makes extra cash on the side by working as a maid and caretaker to an old man, who’d suffered a stroke. Her duties include bathing the old man as well as cleaning the house. She is also the grandmother to one of the boys.

The fathers of the five other boys and Mija gather at a lunch meeting for a discussion on the handling of the situation. They mention how the girl’s diary had been found by the principal and how a couple of police investigators are also aware of the crime, as well as the homeroom teacher and the girl’s mother (a farmer who lives alone with her son). The men decide as a group that they should compensate the mother with a sum of something equivalent to about $30,000 to keep the matter a secret and keep the press from getting to the story.

The primary discourse throughout the film is one on the difference between genders. For instance, the men who are fathers to the five boys who’d raped this girl and driven her to suicide find it very easy to come to a monetary compensation as a way to settle the matter. Mija, however, doesn’t seem to agree, albeit not stating it directly. She quietly harbors her mourning throughout the film. I thought it was ingenious to assign Mija's role to an old woman (Yun Jung Hee) —a person who obviously is no longer in her teens, and has mothered a daughter and now raises a teenage grandson struggling with adolescent qualms. But from the film’s portrayal, it’s obvious that she empathizes with this young girl’s pain very closely, despite the distance between the two in terms of age.

The main struggle for Mija, aside from the pressure to pay five grand in order to bail out her grandson, is to write a poem. She claims never to have written a poem and does not consider herself a poet, but she constantly asks herself and others what it takes to write a poem. She attends a local poetry reading and approaches one woman whose poems she admires. The woman advises Mija not to try so hard but to simply feel. This is where the young girl’s death, her experiences just prior to her death, and Mija’s desire to write a poem meet: Mija doesn’t try to write a poem but instead feels what the girl had gone though daily and takes notes, visiting the places where the girl had been, sensing what she had sensed when she was still living.

Mija takes a walk on the bridge, overlooking the river where the girl had killed herself, and stands there, feeling the wind. Her hat flies off her head and lands in the water. Mija takes a walk by the water through grass and sits on a rock, letting rain pelt down on her. It seems that the old lady is getting closer to acting as a vessel to the girl whose voice the townsmen, the mother, the school, the police and the media have muffled, but not in a vindictive way. Just in a quiet but heartbreaking manner to say that she’d been there and sensed something in those places there.

There is a scene where the old woman is bathing the old man she works for. In the middle of bathing him, she stops because she feels an erection. When she pulls away, the old man grabs her arm and begs her to let him feel like a man just once before he dies. She rebukes him and leaves, subsequently quitting her job. The scene is intense. The old man, who can’t enunciate his words properly due to his stroke, looks pathetic and desperate, and Mjia looks back, resentful and disgusted. The scene conjures up the eternal struggle between man and woman. The only word that can describe this struggle is “impossible,” because of the impossibility of what a man claims he needs, which he blames nature for, and the impossibility of being a woman, unable to heed to such a request so easily without feeling like she is being taken away of something. This scene juxtaposes nicely with another scene that occurs a bit later on in the film, when the old woman pays a visit to the country side where the girl’s mother resides. She takes a walk down a path and sees apricots that had “throw[n] themselves” all over the ground. She finds the girl’s mother working in the field and talks for sometime about apricots, and how the sight of the fruit thrown on the ground, getting trampled and broken, seems necessary for the next life to begin. The scene is more or less a statement on how a woman, in all stages of her life—teenage girl, a middle aged mother, or a senior grandmother—suffers abuse for the sake of others' progression, particularly, in this case, the men’s.

In another scene, Mija goes to a karaoke room and sings. The father of one of the five boys goes there to meet her. I wondered why the director had put in this scene, and soon the reason became clear to me: the men sense an urgency in a matter such as this, and believe it can easily be put to rest with money, but women—this woman—finds the situation so much more overwhelming and impossible than they do—so much so that she sees no choice other than to go to a karaoke room and sing. Either that or go for walks, feel and describe nature, and try to write a poem.

Mija eventually returns to the old man’s house, gives him his Viagra, and performs intercourse. I say “perform” here because the sex scene lacks such intimacy, is so tragically arid and sad that there is no better word to describe it. The old man, with his face contorted from stroke, in an expression that seems mixed with pain and pleasure, looks away the entire time she has sex with him, while Mija sheds tears. Mija eventually blackmails him, requesting the five grand in return for the service she gave him when she pays him a visit in the presence of his children and grandchildren. She requests the money in return for her silence of their actions.

On “Electricity” as a Motif

At the start of the film, Mija visits a local hospital, complaining of a prickly sensation traveling down her arm, which she compares to a sensation of electric shock passing. Throughout the film, technology as a form of escapism for her grandson plays a huge role. Whenever the boy is home with his grandmother, he plays the stereo too loudly, keeps the computer on constantly, or watches TV at every meal. When the grandmother makes hints at her awareness of his crime, he turns on the TV to block out her words and his own conscience. In one of the last scenes of the boy, his grandmother finds him at an arcade, and pulls him out. The boy reluctantly leaves with her, but it is obvious that what he craves is senseless visual or aural stimulation to find relief from whatever distress he feels. The electronic distractions in the film act as an antithesis to poetry which Mija looks for in nature.

The boy doesn’t really show much remorse for his actions or the girl’s death, and finally, neither does Mija after she hands the men the five grand she received from the old man, indicating that the matter’s been closed and put behind her. In the end, the boy does get taken away by the police, and what happens after is never really told but the old woman does finally write her poem, and she hands it in on the last day of her poetry class, leaving it behind with a bouquet of flowers for the teacher.

On Agnes’ Song

The poem is called “Agnes’ Song,” and it begins in Mija's voice then turns into Agnes’ voice in the middle until the end.

It is a love poem. One must ask to whom this song is dedicated, and to whom the confession is being made. The poem makes sense once it is realized that the love song is dedicated to life. The small but vivid details of the experiences one feels while living are what Agnes had loved and what she misses. Seen from this angle, the poem is moving, painful and beautiful.

Poetry is a terrific film. It’s devastating and slow moving but intense and lovely at the same time. I recommend it for anyone who can appreciate it from the angles that I’d mentioned earlier. The film is a perfect, poetic illustration of what we live everyday but often ignore.  




Monday, March 7, 2011

On "Bob's Burgers"

Fox's new animated series "Bob's Burgers" received very mixed reviews but I think the main problem with Mike Hale's (The New York Times) and Tim Goodman's (The Hollywood Reporter) reviews is that they both compare this show to Fox's two other animated Sunday shows: "Family Guy" and "The Simpsons."

There is nothing about this new show, created by Loren Bouchard, that I find comparable to "Family Guy" or "The Simpsons," (both reviewers compare the character of Linda Belcher (voiced by John Roberts) to Marge Simpson) other than the fact that all three shows are about a nuclear family in cartoon.

Bob Belcher (voiced by H. Jon Benjamin) is a burger joint owner and the father of three: Tina Belcher (Dan Mintz), Gene Belcher (Eugene Mirman), and Louise Belcher (Kristen Schaal). (Given Schaal and Mirman's appearances in "Flight of the Conchords," the confused back-and-forth and inanity that occur in "Bob's Burgers" show signs of comedic influences taken from their HBO Alma mater.)


The tone of the show's humor is reminiscent of Adult Swim's animated shows, whose quality is minimal, dead-pan, and seemingly pointless but eventually delivering a strong and clever punchline. (In fact, H. Jon Benjamin was on "Space Ghost Coast to Coast.")  What great timing on Fox's part to be airing a show that will let audiences relearn and rethink what good humor in animation is all about ("The Simpsons" have their place in history, and as for "Family Guy," well, people seem pretty tired of its perpetual, over-the-top absurdity, which, if anything, is more pointless and weak in terms of comedic effect than the depth and hilarious timing that "Bob's Burgers" has). "Bob's Burgers" is refreshing, smart, and necessary.

Hale misses the point in the show's humor if he doesn't find its "deadpan monotone" funny. Bob's calm and quiet (but mild and harmless) aggression and sarcasm are terrifically delivered by Benjamin (who looks familiar from his appearance in "Important Things with Demetri Martin").Given the generally monotonous tone of Bob's character, there is always the promise for a laugh when he explodes in anger or goes mad with frustration (which happens often).  And Louise is anything but monotonous with her burst of high energy and loud voice, which are constant throughout every episode, as is Linda, the Brooklyn-Jew/Italian sounding wife and mother with her homeyness and an attitude that seems to almost deliberately overlook the crass, borderline sociopathic, qualities in her children. Gene is reminiscent of those wayward and strange boys everyone knew in high school, who were aware of their bizarreness but didn't care who said what about it--another refreshing element. The only characters who show signs of monotony are Bob and the eldest, Tina, who is working through the awkward stage in her life and is ruthlessly unapologetic for doing so; contrary to her apparent nerdiness, she is pretty comfortable and outspoken about the changes she is going through (in fact, her shamelessness reminds me of another classically considered nerd who is apathetic to anyone else's opinion of her--the great Ms. Tina Fey). Goodman accuses the show's writers for their weak writing but I find every character in this show to be well-developed, original and fitting in the dynamic of the show. The writing is tight and solid. The pilot episode of "Bob's Burgers" is so much better than what "Family Guy" came up with back in '99.

The humor in this show is a taste that some members of the audience may have to learn to acquire , but it's easy to do (proof of the mass audience's broad-ranging palate is in their acquisition of the humor in "30 Rock").

If this show is taken off the air before the second season, I would be disappointed but not very surprised. But I also guarantee and predict a large cult following as "Freaks and Geeks" did at the turn of this century.
"Bob's Burgers" is a great show, and people will definitely recognize it.

Monday, February 28, 2011

on Richard Simmons

When I woke up this morning, for some effed up reason, the first thing I wanted to do was look up Richard Simmons.



I have no idea why.

Anyway, here are some facts about Simmons:

He was born in New Orleans, Louisiana on July 12, 1948. He is five foot, six inches tall and was obese throughout high school, weighing over two hundred and sixty pounds.

He studied at the University of Southwestern Louisiana and Florida State University. He also studied in Florence, Italy. He earned his undergraduate degree in Art.

Shortly after, he moved to New York, working a few jobs in advertising, cosmetics and hospitality. He moved to LA, where he gained an interest in healthy eating and physical fitness.

His first exercise studio was called The Anatomy Asylum.

According to Wikipedia, his trademark attire is "candy-striped Dolphin shorts and tank tops decorated with Swarovski crystals."

Simmons has made numerous appearances in the media including major shows such as The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, The Late Show with David Letterman, General Hospital, Saturday Night Live and Arrested Development.

He was also in a Superbowl car commercial in 2009: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLDlstxN5y8

He also has his own line of steamers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SCJLlSf21Y&NR=1&feature=fvwp

He was also on The Ellen DeGeneres Show: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcZUODRQQBs&feature=related

He screams in all three.