Hope: though there is none for your tearducts

Lee Joon-ik [trailer]

The point at which the cinema collectively lost all composure

So I've just returned from a screening of Hope, a Korean drama directed by Lee Joon-ik, and I simply must rave about it. This was most definitely one of the best films I've seen this year, though it gave my heart strings a good workout!

Based on a true story, the film dealt with the heavy theme of child sexual assault and it's devastating impact following the rape and brutal assault of an 8-year-old girl (named Hope) on her way to school. The attack results in lifelong physical and emotional scarring that leaves the affected family scrambling to pick up the pieces of the life they had before the incident. The plot takes a devastating turn when a traumatised Hope refuses to see or communicate with her father, leading him to dress up as her favourite cartoon character so that he can be by her side through the difficult recovery. Simultaneously, the film addresses the rocky relationship of her parents, revealing Hope's mother's unnoticed pregnancy and highlighting the lack of communication between husband and wife. Progressively we see these relationships begin to repair as the family learns a new way of living, finding glimmers of hope and beauty amid the pain and tragedy of their journey.

Hope's  pacing, character development and aesthetic were just a few of the features that really made this film so beautiful to experience. We are carried through as though we were there, lingering on the stunningly symbolic moments between Hope and her father while simultaneously exploiting the art of suggestion to avoid holding our hand throughout. Hope's transformation following the attack has been handled with such grace that I found myself wondering how they managed to capture both vulnerability and selflessness so harmoniously. The cinematography and colour of the film aided the experience perfectly, with brightly coloured, clear shots reminding us of the youthful perspective that Hope partially retained. Additionally,  the use of opportune close ups never failed to draw us into the emotional encounters that inevitably littered a film of its nature. Perhaps one of Lee Joon-ik's most beautiful shots was from one of the darkest, yet sweetest moments in the film. We are positioned from the perspective of Hope's father when he attempts to approach her after the attack and see, from across the room, her sitting upright on a hospital bed with a white sheet over her head. The composition of this shot conveys stunningly, a sense of her isolation that coincides with the symbolism of the sheet as a veil representing both her innocence and shame. For this shot, he has tastefully subdued the favoured childlike colour scheme to reveal a blue/green clinical tone accented only by mechanical monitors and the small red toy Hope clings to. A visually stunning representation that compliments perfectly, the devastating conversation taking place between father and daughter in which the extent of the damage to their relationship is realised.

Overall, I cannot say enough about the brilliance of this film. It's aesthetic, taste and style really resonated with me and, despite watching from the perspective of an English-speaking western viewer, I felt very little was lost in translation due to the excellent visual communication. I would recommend this film to anybody with a love of beautiful filmmaking (so everybody!) although now warn you that it does come with an unavoidable waterworks hazard.

Evidence of attendance:

Red Desert: A virtual Sahara of subtly

Michelangelo Antonioni [trailer]

This was literally my face for most of the film 

Once again a film that has chucked any suggestion of an engaging plot-line under the bus. The first experiment in Italian director, Antonioni's, transition into colour film making, Red Desert explores the malaise of industrial society and it's effect on the psyche. Needless to say, what this film may lack in the more traditional attention grabbing techniques it more than makes up for with a stunning construction of setting and the overall aesthetic. The film features some of Antonioni's most beautiful work with painted sets along with fabulous use of colour that truly demonstrates his grasp on using the aesthetic of the film to engage and compliment the character's journey. 

In the simplest of terms, Red Desert follows the breakdown of a young mother Giuliana (played by one of Antonioni's leading ladies, Monica Vitti), who appears to suffer from some form of post natal depression that spurs a rapid decline into a state of emotional wreckage. A condition mirrored and in many ways affected by her environment, the heavily industrialised area serves as a metaphor of her poisoned mind. The closing scene of the film further cements this connection between the environment and the psyche with Giuliana, symbolically dressed in green as the mother nature figure, positioned in front of a large mechanical factory that pumps toxic-looking gas into the air. It is clear she doesn't belong in this setting, however, Antonioni's placement intentionally highlights this obvious discord through the use of colour and carefully constructed mise-en-scene.

Now, after gushing over Antonioni's style let's talk a little about the pace. Now, I'll admit I'm not the most patient of sorts but this movie takes the notion of extended sequences to a whole new level. Red Desert felt like waiting for the cacti grow, only to find it didn't come with any unexpected plot spikes or even a flourishing flower of a finale. While I sat in awe of Antonioni's unique style and command of colour, I sat in baffled silence throughout most dialogue scenes just trying to understand where the story was going. While I understand the need for subtlety in a such a stunning visual  piece, I feel that Red Desert took this a little far, to the point where it's indirectness distracted me from truly appreciating it's visual style.

All in all, an unusual film that both intrigued and frustrated me in it's artistic approach. A must see Italian experimental for someone looking to broaden their cultural palette.