Gastoski

Ghost In The Machine / I Bury The Living (?)

A jealousy and cuckolded husband “kills” his wife and then, in a macabre farce, carries her around in a hearse to extort money from her former lovers, but not everything is as it seems...

1964 was a remarkable year, which saw the release of this curious work by Hajime Sato:
It came after the untimely death of the master Ozu (which, incidentally, also coincided with the retirement from the screen of the extraordinary Setsuko Hara) and the release of interesting works that, curiously, also arrived in Italy:
Among the many, Teshigahara’s beautiful “Woman In The Dunes” (often shown on TV) as well as Suzuki's “The Flower And The Angry Waves” and “Gate Of Flesh” (among my favourites by the master), Masumura's ‘Manji’ (another personal favourite of mine), Shindo Kaneto's ‘Onibaba’, as well as works by Imamura, Honda, Shinoda, Naruse (who has been criminally ignored here for decades!) etc.

‘Sanpo Suru Reikyusha’ by Sato, known internationally as ‘The Glamorous Ghost’, also arrives in Italy but is released with a completely different title (a practice that is, alas, widely abused...) and becomes, for some reason, ‘L’ Amore scotta a Yokohama’, something like ‘Love Burns in Yokohama’…
But why, as many have pointed out, is the action set in Tokyo, what does Yokohama have to do with it?
Who knows!

Although difficult to categorise, but well analysed on various websites that have discussed it over the years, the movie can be considered a black comedy with a grotesque atmosphere, with decidedly surreal touches and some concessions to the macabre that place it, with considerable freedom, in the so-called “Ero guro” genre, with all that this entails…

Decidedly ambiguous in structure and morally cruel in its portrayal of the characters—all of whom are deeply unlikeable—the film truly seems like an allegory, or rather, as is often the case in many works from the Land of the Rising Sun, a parable about the destructive power of money which, when all is said and done, always leads to ruin due to greed and cupidity.

One of the film's greatest strengths is its ability to bring out the worst traits in all of its characters, who are largely devoid of humanity and feelings, driven by the murkiest of impulses, greed for wealth, coldfinancial calculation and abuse of power, taken to the extreme.

If the characterisation of the taxi driver husband (Kō Nishimura, with his extraordinary career) is a mediocre figure, lacking in scruples and moral integrity, ready to adapt and exploit the various twists and turns of the situation, he does not present any positive characteristics, his wife (Masumi Harukawa, also a veteran actress) is no less impressive, a treacherous double-crosser who coldly and lucidly exploits her (arguably questionable) attractiveness not for exclusive physical satisfaction, but purely for the desire to get rich...

And the supporting figures who gradually appear throughout the story are no less (obnoxiously) remarkable.

A grotesque comedy of errors, ‘The Glamorous Ghost’ inevitably ends up being compared to ‘The Comedy of Terrors’, one of the last movies by the great Jacques Tourneur, which coincidentally came out just a year earlier. Tourneur’s movie, it must be said, is certainly not unforgettable, revealing its main strength in its excellent and entertaining cast.

This work by Sato, a director perhaps hastily placed in marginal categories of Japanese cinema, on the contrary, thanks to remarkable black and white photography that increases the contrasts between light and shadow, contributing to amplifying the caricatural effect on the characters, his skewed, distorting shots, and moments of amusing surreal comedy (such as the trips in the hearse and the visit to the morgue with all the corpses awaiting burial) is still appreciated today, thanks to its somewhat macabre, undoubtedly unconventional taste, which may not be to everyone's liking, but certainly a faithful reflection of contemporary society, where everything seems to be driven by money and selfishness and where no redemption seems possible, as can also be inferred from the mockingly ironic ending.
7

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When (low) life gives you porcelain

South Korea, '70s: Eyeing the opportunity for a highly lucrative business deal, small-time criminal O Gwan Seok and his nephew O Hui Dong join a ship expedition intent on recovering a large quantity of Chinese ceramics. The submerged treasure is located inside a wreck sunk off the coast of Mokpo, in South Jeolla Province; however, they need to find a financier and some divers, all without arousing the suspicion of the police and any rival treasure hunters...

One could start from the assumption that ‘Low Life’ is not exactly a production for all tastes, given that the accumulation of stylistic elements within it goes somewhat against the grain of the classic (even aesthetic) canons of the multitude of more openly celebrated contemporary dramas.

While it is true that at times it seems almost like a coming-of-age story, and the voiceover in several places reinforces this idea, adding a melodramatic element that is perhaps a little rhetorical but undoubtedly charming, it is nevertheless in the generalised human scenario that the main strengths lie.

At the heart of it all, as always when it comes to money, fortune, wealth and “treasures”, there is obviously greed and avidity, which here go hand in hand with the inevitable feeling of vain hope and social redemption linked to the ephemeral illusion of achieving economic targets.

Certainly valuable and courageous is the choice to represent a microcosm of marginal characters, outcasts and petty criminals, ready to fight each other in order to obtain the coveted ‘treasure’ in the illusion that this lucrative opportunity could change their lives.
Modern buccaneers, one might say.

And mind you, greed here is not limited to certain characters in the drama, but is a generalised fault that overwhelms every single element of the story and, in many places, spares no one, not even in the fleeting emotional bonds that occasionally reveal themselves, perhaps with the illusion of some search for “normality”.

Undoubtedly, it is a picture full of shadows and contradictions, where, at least for a large part of the drama, there is no room for purity and moral integrity, and where every character in the story, either by their own decision or by a cruel twist of fate, ends up choosing the most immediate path, as well as, inevitably, the most dangerous one.

For some, a certain ‘harshness’ in the approach to ‘Low Life’ may be determined by an almost wait-and-see first section, which is extremely articulate and dialogue-heavy, where, cinematographically speaking, the plot development is rather limited (one could say that ‘little is happening’ from an action point of view), but which is essential for introducing the vast and varied cast, with all their peculiarities and contradictions; It is clearly with the start of the treasure hunt that, inevitably, the human dynamics and behavioural tensions that had been suppressed until then will explode...

So double-crossing, suspicion, betrayal and fragile alliances prevail, thanks to the excellent ensemble cast and skilful direction that alternates moments of comedy and black humour with sudden, chilling bursts of violence and sadism, as if to emphasise the ambiguous nature of the characters portrayed in the story.

The characterisation of O Gwan Seok by the excellent Ryu Seung-ryong is truly remarkable. He is an utterly impassive and cynical figure – a mask that seems to come straight out of 1970s genre movies – ready to do anything to achieve his targets; However, in my opinion, the talented Im Soo Jung is unbeatable in the role of the ruthless Yang Jeong Sook, a sort of cold and manipulative “dark lady” who remains unperturbed and determined for most of the story, even if her mask occasionally gives way to moments of unexpected romance.

More classic is Yang Se Jong's portrayal of the young O Hui Dong, who, while accepting the (dirty) rules of the business, bends, especially in the last few episodes, for obvious narrative reasons, to a more stereotyped and “chivalrous” representation of what is necessary.

But it is the ensemble of many well-known and distinctive faces, playing the parts of con artists, ceramist experts, suburban wrestlers and boxers, improvised divers, corrupt police officers and all the motley crew that follows them, that allows ‘Low Life’ to be appreciated as a whole.

Clearly, it is not a perfect drama; the ending is a bit rushed and perhaps too ‘open,’ and, as already mentioned, patience and attention are required at the beginning. There may also be some somewhat forced twists at the end, but you are rewarded with a beautiful adventure that offers an interesting—and nostalgic—portrait of a particular historical period (the '70s), where the first signs of the economic and urban boom (and, of course, speculation) that will come to Seoul are already visible, in contrast to the representation of urban marginality and the aesthetics of the slums, well rendered by a careful reproduction of the locations, costumes and incredible looks of the time.

7 ½

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You Must Be a Witch...

Very high expectations supported by a result that is not entirely satisfying, for this 'Bitter Sweet Hell', a reasonably good but not outstanding drama, capable of starting off in a very solid and engaging manner, but, as frequently happens in contemporary productions, able to end up losing a little focus in the development of the plot.

Beyond the personal taste interpretation of the genre (it is definitely bold to consider BSH a generic 'black comedy'), the drama can comfortably be placed in the context of a family-based thriller, accompanied by the now overused theme of revenge linked to past events, where it is precisely the concept of family, in its multiple aspects, that provides the best key to interpretation and analysis.

Beginning as a phenomenological study of a typical upper-class Korean family (I imagine belonging to that famous 1% often depicted in dramas), 'Bitter Sweet Hell' has the merit of highlighting a harsh analysis of the family institution, highlighting through the failure of marriage, the dramatic and in many ways impossible ability concerning the proper management of interpersonal relationships within the same family unit.

That all this originates through the external factor of the criminal element of the plot, the notorious 'Witch', a sort of puppet master, capable of pulling the strings at his own sadistic will, is certainly one of the most interesting aspects in the development of the story.

The perfect, idyllic, but utterly fake and insincere portrayal of the family unit reveals all its fragility when the death of the patriarch (the always excellent Kwon Hae-hyo, also sacrified for plot exigencies), opens the infamous Pandora's box on the private vices and sins of the various family members...

The carnage game that ensues leads Dr. No, an eminent psychiatrist with a TV programme affiliated with her, to vacillate over the truth behind her own father's death, her father-in-law's responsibility and, at the same time, the mysterious disappearance of her own husband, the famous surgeon Choi Jae Jin.

Faced with the collapse of her certainties, purely selfish doubts about her own career, the resulting social status quo, and the safety/protection of her son (holder of an unmentionable secret), Dr No will even have to confront her mother-in-law, the famous mystery novelist Hong Sa Gang ('Cigarette Queen'), a lover of Agatha Christie and not at all resigned to the risk of a veritable media pillory capable of demolishing the few certainties left in the family...

The confrontation/clash between daughter-in-law and mother-in-law gives us the most enjoyable moments of the drama, thanks to the two prima donnas, perfectly placed in their roles; if Kim Hee Sun may seem a little more conservative with an extremely measured style (but she is just great style, as always, even if in the ending she literally loosens the reins as a mother bear protecting her cub) , in the intense performance of the always remarkable Lee Hye Young, we can really appreciate the ultimate feeling of the story, thanks also to a clever use of explicative flashbacks that add meat to the fire, enriching the plot and leading us to understand the sincere love of the novelist for her family, obviously impossible to explain in words, but comprehensible through the pages of books...

The moments in the whole part concerning the search for the husband/son Choi Jae Jin are very well presented, thanks also to the contribution of Park Kang Sung in the role of Ahn Kil Kang, handyman in the service of the novelist and manager of the 'Soft Hands' restaurant; the characterisation of Kim Nam Hee in the role of a genuine pusillanimous, only partly justified by the personal revelation about his origins, is very well done...

Among the drama's negative aspects, which unfortunately affect the final result quite a bit, I have to place the "Wicked" Lee Se Na, played by an inadequate Yeonwoo, in my opinion (it's always a personal thing, specific!) incapable of portraying a memorable villain, commensurate with the story;
if the explanation on the origin of Se Na's evil is decidedly conventional, even less is made clear as to how she could have circuited and manipulated more or less all the men (there is talk of three husbands, several lovers and even some women) in her revenge intentions;
The head tilt and a mocking glance are not enough to define evil, and the last two episodes, with the usual incongruities in the script and the obvious narrative strains, the sudden 'illuminations' capable of giving the drama a decisive turn, suffer greatly from this serious weakness (or casting error, to my way of thinking), dragging the story towards a rather predictable and even not very courageous ending.

Much, much better is the character of Moon Tae Oh (played by Jung Gun Joo) in the role of the main actors' son's tutor; in his case the roots of the evil are fully justified by deriving family faults and therefore deserving of a justified process of recovery, of 'salvation and redemption', unlike Se Na who, perversely guilty, as a pure 'witch' will meet her just fate....

Interesting is the role of Dr Oh Ji Eun (played by Shin So Yool), hopelessly in love, in search of familial acceptance and a victim in spite of herself of adult scheming and insensitivity...
Lee Se Na, Moon Tae Oh and Dr Oh herself represent in different ways three aspects of a family laceration with devastating consequences, irreparable in Se Na's case.

Vice versa, for the main character family, there can be a chance of redemption and new awareness through mutual solidarity, the ability to listen and understand, the principle of 'acceptance'; exemplary from this point of view is the role of the whole family towards the existential condition of their son Do Hyun (portrayed by a sincere and very human Park Jae-chan), and the appeal, albeit painful but necessary, towards memories (through letters, photographs, footage)

The pursuit of dialogue, sitting around the table, even if only to eat together once in a while, may seem a simple or obvious message, but it can be seen as a curative approach... From this point of view, the conclusion, although overly conciliatory, is quite in line with the development.

To sum up, in my personal opinion, 'Bitter Sweet Hell' is a good drama that lacks a bit of solidity in the second half, but is sustained by an almost completely successful cast and that has the virtue of not going on for too long; I would even have appreciated a couple more episodes to highlight the role of the novelist a bit more concretely, especially in her tormented relationship with her husband, but that's OK;

In some sections, I found several points of contact with the contemporaneous 'Hide' (which is however more reliable on the complex) with which, curiously enough, it shares the location of the holiday residence, the scene of adultery in one case and of crimes in the other...
Personal side note: Hong Sa Gang's car is absolutely awesome!

7/10

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Magnificent Obsession

"Ms. Perfect" is a scintillating melodrama with a classic flavour, able to offer an intricately multifaceted story that, starting from a fairly conventional family drama structure, with the end of a married couple's love affair at its centre and the relative painful disintegration of the domestic unit, gradually evolves into a fascinating and enthralling mystery thriller with an incredible story of mad love at its centre, absolutely indebted to the Hollywood classics of the golden age...

Thanks to the chance offered by a singular and apparently perfect woman, a strange rental contract (extremely favourable! ) and a forced and curious cohabitation, accompanied by a heterogeneous group of family members, friends, and real or presumed servants, the focus of the story will develop in the new home of our heroine who, faced with ambiguously hostile characters and situations, gripped by doubts, feelings of guilt (not only her husband's betrayal, but also the uncomfortable presence/figure of her ex-first love) and even erroneous evaluations, will end up feeling threatened in the actual space of her new living location...

Trying to play with cinematic genres, in order to tempt the curious, “Ms. Perfect” seems to be the evolution of the so-called 'gothic movie', in its female variant, starring a woman, in spite of herself, grappling with a marriage affair with disturbing contours. Only in this case, the danger does not come directly from the male counterpart, but from the ambiguous and perturbing co-star, a true modern adaptation of the figure of the 'dark lady', a typical characterisation of the noir genre.

Everything is prodigiously served by a writing script that is never ordinary, capable of re-launching the plot each time with courageous choices, absolutely unsettling in many cases, at the service of a cast of an extraordinary level, able to alternate between comedy and tragedy, charade and drama, in a constant involvement that accompanies us throughout the wonderful twenty episodes, which show no sign of weakness or tiredness...

Intrigues and mysteries, real or presumed ghosts that re-emerge from a past with many interrogative aspects. As in the best tradition of Korean dramas, an underlying ambiguity appears that is able to characterise all the actors of "Ms. Perfect"... No one seems to be immune from guilt, albeit on different levels, and this ambiguity allows us to escape from easy "good/bad" classifications, thanks to a great performance by the whole cast...

The main attraction of this drama rotates around the astonishing performance of the charismatic Cho Yeo Jung, an actress of incredible beauty, capable, thanks to her immense and ambiguous charm, of portraying the role of a foolish woman in love, disposed to do anything to obtain the object of her desire... Absolutely ambiguous and sinister right from the moment she appears on the scene, Eun Hee becomes the true focal point of the narrative, catalysing the attention on her character who will progressively reveal her hidden object, concretely managing to raise the attention also on the omnipresent and obsessive relationship that connects stars and their fans (stalker! ?)

Sacrificial victims of his love madness are the "rival" Jae Bok, played by the also very beautiful Ko So Young (almost a twin sister of Kim Ha Neul!) and her husband, Jung Hee, brilliantly rendered by the excellent Yoon Sang Hyun, in one of the best roles of his remarkable career... In my opinion, it is precisely through the character of Jung Hee, in his progressive personality transformation, in the clash/confrontation with his wife Jae Bok, that some of the most interesting narrative cues emerge, capable of instilling doubts above all of a moral nature, on ambition, guilt and careerism at any cost...

It was said of the overall excellent cast where also the very good Sung Joon/Bong Goo makes his character evolve in a decidedly mature manner, thanks also to the exemplary part played by Im Se Mi/Na Mi who, mainly in the first half of the drama, shows a prominent role in the unravelling of the intrigued plot... I also really appreciated Jae Bok's two funny female friends, Na Hye Ran (played by Kim Jung Nan) and, above all, Kim Won Jae (Jung Soo Young) who could even have been used in more depth, given the psychoanalytic aspect emerging in the development of the storyline.... But, again, bravo to all, adults and children alike

There are many truly fascinating passages, often concentrated inside the vast mansion; the mysterious doors forbidden to all, also a typical noir cliché, almost an update of Hitchcock's "Rebecca" or so many of its epigones; Jae Bok's continuous wandering in the house, often intimidated by the presence of "hostile" figures; the effective use of flash-backs, which, thanks also to the classic repetitions of past traumas, reveal the many dark points of the principal characters... The confrontation between Na Mi and Eun Hee, Eun Hee finding herself alone in the huge house...And then one of my favourite movie tropes: The forced closure in the asylum, as well as the literally " flaming" finale that seems taken from a Roger Corman movie of the Edgar Allan Poe series....

Managing to satisfy so many of my cinematic obsessions, with an intriguing, engaging, well-written, perfectly acted tale, without moments of boredom or the usual lapses into more or less acceptable nonsense, 'Ms. Perfect' is a 'perfectly' successful example of excellent narrative script that meets absolutely exemplary mise-en-scene, creating a very entertaining story
9/10

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Love can come at any time in our life

I watched this movie to detox myself a bit from a disappointing drama I ‘ve been watching in the past few days, also recommended by another MDL user, what can I say, really a happy breath of fresh air...

It's a really pleasantly well-made romantic comedy that, without saying anything new, joyfully succeeds in engaging the well-prepared viewer for its two-hour duration (which is not particularly heavy at all, however).

It is in the choice of the main players that the movie's success is most evident; telling a love story with two mature characters, wonderfully mature I would say, but at the same time still young in their hearts and at the end of the day simply desperate to have someone at their side to love, like all of us...

The story is of disarming simplicity and the plot mechanics are those well established in the classic Korean rom-com: the main character, with his hilarious facial expressions, lost in his foibles and fixations, with an absolutely absurd and decidedly unhealthy job, the usual circle of colleagues/acquaintances more deranged than him, as well as the bothering element of his brother; on the other side, our beautiful Kim Hee Sun, a messed-up single mother with a teenage daughter, obviously problematic...

Rather than the usual clash-meeting between two completely antithetical entities, the most interesting element is surely the lengthy courteousness on her part, which allows the staging of several rather amusing scenes related to the total clumsiness of our male subject

But it is precisely in these phases of rapprochement of the two lonely souls, in this gradual process towards a state of happiness, that I found myself most satisfied, in that desire to attempt to experience the same joyfully adolescent emotions that can be found in so many dramas or movies, more or less good; that attempt at normality that leads us to think: "Why can't we experience the same joys too!"

Of course, there are the obvious lucky coincidences and even several innocent ingenuities that push the story towards the most obvious ending, thanks also to a supporting cast that is functional to its role, but in the end you are immediately inclined to cheer for the two heroes and therefore we welcome that bit of magical coincidence that leads to the happy end, just to have a Romantic Heart and believe/hope that love can come at any time in our life

The rating is a perhaps generous 7.5/10, but in cases like this it is OK to be kind...

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A marvelous story of indissoluble love

A poignant drama, permeated with a deeply felt melancholy that accompanies us from beginning to end, The Snow Queen continues to be, in my opinion, a marvelous story of indissoluble love, capable of transcending any barrier, pushing (in all senses) towards extreme borders (not only figuratively speaking) thanks to the sincere romanticism of a practically perfect script and an excellent direction (the author is the same director of 'Winter Sonata', to be clear)

As always, love, chance and destiny are preponderant elements that drive the story forward, but compared to similar cases, one does not turn one's nose up at any inconsistency, illogic or magnanimous demands for complete suspension of disbelief, since everything manages to be coordinated in a balanced and 'realistic' structure that also guarantees a sentimental identification with the beautiful characters of the drama...

The composite screenplay manages to overcome a linear storyline with a concentric structure, full of randomness and coincidences, alternating points of view, even narrative variations on the same theme, as well as subplots and geometrical plotlines that enrich the construction of the story, where even a few symbols or simple objects such as a pager, a music tape and a couple of photographs have the strength to release sincere emotion without trespassing on the pathetic.

It is achieved without falling into the baroque or exaggerated mannerism (typical of many contemporary dramas) that sometimes makes us raise an eyebrow or roll our eyes, thanks to skillful and never ordinary dialogue of obvious literary derivation, capable of arousing equal passion for two apparently antithetical subjects such as mathematics and boxing, and this is also possible thanks to a perfect cast in an absolute state of grace.

Hyun Bin renders his character's torment and remorse very well, with a truly calibrated, touching and involving performance, a prisoner of his own secret and bearer of an inner suffering bordering on self-destruction, almost Catholic in nature, even though the religious references (much more marked in other dramas of the same period) remain confined to a desperate prayer/invocation towards the end of the drama. Yu-ri -very gorgeous! -is absolutely perfect, capable of operating a sort of progressive transformation and dramatic growth that is functional to the narrative development of the story; the bumptious and spoilt little girl of the beginning of the story, ends up evolving and becoming a mature (young) woman, consciously resigned, in spite of herself, to her own fate.

The remaining cast is perfectly integrated in their roles without any pedantic backstory that in this case would frankly be considered pleonastic, with the exception of the excellent portrayal of Tae Woong's mother, who is absolutely decisive in further accentuating the protagonist's torments, and Bo Ra's father, capable of confirming once again that founding principle of dramas whereby the faults of parents end up falling on their children (in fact, he is responsible for the tragic fate of his eldest son)

Much has been written, and rightly so, about the extraordinary venues of the story, and the skillful use of the locations really deserves a separate mention, starting with the extraordinary landscapes in the opening, later reproposed in the last episode, to continue with the gymnasium, a sort of perfect microcosm populated by a group of marginalized people with a warm heart, which restores to us all the sense of sadness that lingers in the (icy!?) heart of the protagonist; Bo Ra's house, almost a gilded prison, up to the basketball court that returns also in the heartbreaking finale...

As is common in other productions, the role of nature is central, both in the snowy sequences and in those where it is the sea that increasingly, almost overwhelmingly, emphasizes the lyricism of the drama; for example, the sequences at the grave of the friend/brother, which personally have always made me think of my favorite Murakami Haruki book, 'Norwegian Wood' ...
Touching and melancholic without ever being intrusive, the soundtrack is the further strength of this extraordinary drama, a kind of contemporary fairy tale that is a truly perfect transposition of Andersen's sadly melancholic universe...

I decided to re-watch this gem a distance of a few years, after, what an irony for a drama-fan such myself! Fate has stripped me, in a short space of time, of some of the most beloved people who have accompanied my life... When one loses, affections, loves, friendships, beyond the pain and inner wounding, one questions oneself and seeks answers as to why things happen...
Just like the characters in the drama, we are constantly asking ourselves many questions, and the reflection on the differences between mathematics, which is always able to provide answers, and life, which acts by chance and very often does not provide answers, is perhaps the best possible metaphor or the perfect theorem to sum up not only this drama, but the lives of many people...
10/10

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For lovers of genre

I watched "Awaken" based on VIKI's introduction, expecting a crime thriller maybe in the style of "Flower of Evil" or "The Devil", two series I really adored
At the beginning, I followed with good expectations, thanks to a rather impressive incipit and with intriguing subsequent suggestions, even though the typifications of the main characters were not particularly original (the usual typecasting of the variegated team at work always reminds me of certain Japanese robot cartoons of childhood with the leader, the beauty, the clumsy and the nerd, those things, in short...).

However, as the episodes went on, I began to have more than one doubt about the direction of the series with a growing sense of annoyance, a red alert for a scenario completely different from the initial perspective; getting to the point, the expansion to Sci-Fi and things of this nature I had not really planned for and at that point the interest really dropped exponentially...
I mean, it's not that the story is particularly boring, it's reasonably elaborate and repeatedly tries to revive the attention with impactful cliffhangers, but the problem is that 'Awaken' really does come at a very late stage and smashes open doors from so many previous ones...

With everything we ‘ve had, from 'The X-Files' to 'Stranger Things', via 'Dark Angel' and their many epigones with 'special kids', it's a moment's notice to find yourself in such trite situations that you're able to understand much of the unfolding almost immediately.

The usual secret labs, the usual child-guinea-pigs, the usual mad doctors, between Dr. Frankenstein and the many crazed demiurges in a delirium of omnipotence, perhaps even parents of the aforementioned lab subjects
In overall terms, for fans of the same genre, it is certainly something that can intrigue and involve, but at the same time, for the aficionado with a little knowledge of the material, it is impossible not to notice the incredible accumulation of references, clichés and tired stereotypes that make the nose twitch, as well as the usual holes in the logic that often screw up the elaboration and development of many situations...

And it's a pity, because in my opinion the moral dimension of the story should have been highlighted more, thanks to the excellent performance of the main character Namkoong Min, capable of casting for several episodes the classic shadow of doubt on his true nature; it's also a shame for the little in-depth analysis between our super-child and the really disturbing mad scientist-mother, limited to the last episodes; the same goes for the police-daughter/father-scientist relationship, with an always excellent Kim Chang Wan in a role that would have deserved a better deepening, but then the police daughter (who we are told is also of great merit) really knows practically nothing about her father's work, for all those years! ?

The lead character in the guise of a wanted possible multiple homicide who calmly drives around the city, in defiance of roadblocks, checkpoints, camera recordings or phone interceptions (as seen in so many dramas or movies) is inexcusable, as is the Terminator-turn with the relative moving of trucks with his hands (but why?), with sudden and opportune super-powers...

A comic anthology is the three days wasted by Jamie (by the way, she, Lee Chung Ah, really beautiful -nda) and the nosey reporter waiting for the rain to cease so they can go by boat to the island-laboratory, and then the two 'super-boys' who come and go in a flash, at night, and how do they do it, maybe flying!?

It gets to the end rather tiredly due to the too many twists and turns of the drama with a pretty predictable and practically inevitable ending that leaves that inevitable sense of déjà-vu and general discontent quite marked...
Personally my rating is 7/10, fairly generous, more for the first part of the story and for some of the acting performances:
Of course Namkoong Min who certainly doesn't need me to tell him that (he's a class actor!) and something in the minor characterisations but at the end of the whole affair there are no particular desires left for second viewings...

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"La tristesse durera toujours"

Toshio Ōki (Sō Yamamura, in an absolutely well-placed part), an established middle-aged writer, husband and father, travels to Kyoto in the days leading up to New Year’s Eve; In his thoughts always returns Otoko (Kaoru Yachigusa, perfectly at ease in the role), his former lover from decades earlier, who at the time, when the girl was barely 16, had also given him a daughter, who died soon after her birth...
From this experience, Ōki wrote a deeply autobiographical book ("The Sixteen-Year-Old Girl", the title quoted in the novel) that became a bestseller.
After being abandoned by Ōki (who has returned to the family fold), Otoko is now an accomplished painter and lives in the company of the young and perturbing Keiko (Mariko Kaga, stunning), her pupil and lover; Keiko, as beautiful as well as enigmatic, is obsessed with “bringing justice” to her partner, engaging in a destructive game of massacre that will not spare even Ōki's son Taichiro…

Beauty and Sadness ("Utsukushisa to Kanashimi to", 1964) is one of the most significant novels by Yasunari Kawabata, the great Japanese master who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1968; His compositional style, poetic lyricism and the themes expressed in his works are ineluctably interwoven with Japanese culture and tradition, but also with that profound and complex sense of universal melancholy that afflicts -inesorably- the human soul, especially in the face of the passing of time and, therefore, of life itself ...
The material available in the novel offers so many insights that it would be perfect for a film adaptation.

Due to the immediate public success of the book, the Shōchiku film company cleverly decided to produce an adaptation for the big screen, relying on the skilful flair of Masahiro Shinoda, one of the most representative names at the disposal of the company founded in Tokyo.

Shinoda (born in 1931, died in early 2025) had joined Shōchiku in 1953, at a very young age and, like so many of his colleagues, had gone through a several-year apprenticeship as assistant director for many prestigious colleagues (Ozu too, among others) and, finally, in 1960 he made his debut as a film director, immediately distinguishing himself thanks to a non-conformist style, detached from the cultural movements that engaged his more “politicised” colleagues (Oshima etc.).

Eager to change the basic language, as well as the content and themes, Shinoda had started a productive collaboration with both Shuji Terayama, great author, poet, playwright, director and a thousand other things, and also with avant-garde composer Toru Takemitsu, deconstructing cinematic materials, especially in Yakuza and Crime Movies such as “My Face Red in the Sunset” (which seems to anticipate certain Seijun Suzuki-esque mockery and experimentation) and, most of all in the beautiful "Pale Flower”.

To use the words of Chris D. in his immense essay “Outlaw Masters Of Japanese Film”, Shinoda revealed an almost pictorial style in the composition of the images, managing to miraculously merge music with imagery, lights and camera work, resulting in a rigorous style and realisation…

With these assumptions, in the skilful hands of the Gifu-born director, Kawabata's novel comes to life, converting the pages of the book into images and perfectly reproducing the sensual and aestheticising world of the work of the same name, without, however, giving in to perhaps easier sensationalism (as in Masumura's “Manji” of the same time, nudity is extremely limited here).

We are in the presence of a multifaceted and complex love story involving all the tormented characters portrayed and where all the most significant themes of the novel find expression; The past that suddenly resurfaces, suffering and regret (because “Love is a wound that never heals...”), sense of guilt, but also desire, obsession and, of course, love itself (also in its predominant homosexual aspect).

All these elements are highlighted by Shinoda with an extremely geometric style, elegant in its attention to detail and in the search for atmosphere; A style capable of alternating very close-ups with long shots, as well as crab shots and the use of refined long takes; Those in Otoko's house are beautiful, with the two women/lovers confronting each other.

Refined visual aesthetics and a great display of technique even in static shots, almost with a cinematographic cut à la Ozu; Shinoda also fills the scenes with mirrors, somewhat in the manner of Orson Welles, almost as if to reiterate, in metaphorical form, the complexity of reality, truth and the shattering of the identities represented, particularly in the multifaceted nature of Keiko.

Thanks also to the perfect use of colours and beautiful locations, the clever temporal fragmentation - excellent flashbacks alternating past and present - the contribution of the music - and introspective silences - and the use of elliptical editing, the essence of the original text, as well as much of the dialogue, is well represented, especially in the last segment, which diligently avoids risky didactic cascades, restoring all the pathos and relative emotional tension of the book's dramatic crescendo.

The choice of the cast, perfectly assembled, is a very satisfying decision; The idea of making Keiko the fulcrum of the story is interesting, thanks also to the remarkable attractiveness of Mariko Kaga (already the protagonist in ‘Pale Flower’ who, moreover, with those eyes, would make anyone vacillate!). Especially in the sequences with Otoko, Keiko is remarkable in amplifying her obsessions and her mad love for her teacher, at times disturbing in her iron will to achieve her purposes;

Almost as a counterpart, Otoko interiorises her own suffering and her painful wounds, trying to find a reason for being in the realisation of the painting (“The Child's Ascension” is the highlighted title in the novel) which, in a cathartic way, should help her overcome the events she has experienced over the years, as well as the “beauty and sadness” of her unfortunate love for Ōki.
Ōki, played by Sō Yamamura, (the same age as his character in the novel at the time) especially in the first section, is well centred and conveys the anxieties and existential condition required by the role, tormented by remorse.

Perfectly functional Yamamoto Kei, in the role of Taichiro and Watanabe Misako, in that of Fumiko, Ōki's wife, torn by grief and resentment…

As a curiosity, the film was distributed in Italy with a decidedly distorted title, ‘L'Amaro Giardino di Lesbo’, something like ‘The Bitter Garden of Lesbo’, too explicit and moreover misleading in its contents; An opera perhaps not to everyone's taste, also due to a certain coldness or contemplative “slowness”, ‘With Beauty and Sorrow’ proves perfectly capable of honouring its magnificent source (the novel is absolutely essential) in an intense and refined manner, subtly cutting as well as painfully beautiful... and sad.

8 ½

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Two's couple, three's a crowd…Four is a cross

* Sonoko, the bored wife of the lawyer Kakiuchi, attends a private art school and during her lessons, while portraying the Bodhisattva divinity Kannon, she meets the young Mitsuko, being fascinated by her... Soon an unstoppable passion breaks out between the two women, which sees the more mature Sonoko obsessed by the manipulative Mitsuko and which will see the two women find themselves entangled in a torrid sexual labyrinth that will end up involving even the ambiguous Watanuki, Mitsuko's promised husband, and Sonoko's own husband…

Among other things, 1964 was the year that saw the remarkable encounter between the outstanding narrative style of the master Junichiro Tanizaki and the peculiar and unconventional cinematic vision of the great Yasuzo Masumura, a director capable of translating one of the Tokyo writer's masterpieces, the famous “Manji”, into images, rendered correctly in Italian as “La Croce Buddista” (The Buddhist Cross) and also released here as a movie with the adapted (but not taken out of context) title “La Casa degli Amori Particolari” (something like “The House of Unusual Loves”) and later also reworked by female director Liliana Cavani in a version transposed to World War II and titled “Interno Berlinese”...

Masumura inherited the project from Kon Ichikawa, who was in turn filming his work on the Tokyo Olympics. He enlisted the help of Kaneto Shindo for the screenplay and, more than faithfully respecting Tanizaki's novel (set in the late 1920s), he dried and compressed the pages of the book, dropping everything into a contemporary setting (recognisable by the clothes of the protagonists) with an almost theatrical feel, or a kammerspiel if you prefer…

An incredibly oppressive and claustrophobic setting (there are practically no outdoor sequences) with a skilful use of the flashback structure (just like in the novel), supported also by a beautiful chromatic rendering that emphasises the colours, but, above all, relying on his directorial dogmas, often criticised by artists such as Oshima, who had devoted more than one critical essay on Masumura's style to the method of the master of Kofu.

Masumura had formed in Italy, at the "Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia", a Roma" (CSC) in the two-year period from 1952 to 1954, and this experience had allowed him to associate with other colleagues of the calibre of Federico Fellini, Roberto Rossellini and Michelangelo Antonioni, to name but a few; Returned to his homeland, he immediately distinguished himself by his unconventional approach and a style that went against the trends of classical filmmakers, but also of his younger colleagues (such as Oshima himself) with an anti-naturalistic style that made no concessions to spectacle and the desires of the audience

"Manji', in the hands of another director, could have lent itself to an easy reading as a canonical melodrama with a tragic background, but Masumura's extremely direct -and concise- treatment combines formal radicalism (non-conformist vision) and adequate psychological tension, as well as emphasising the peculiarities of his directorial style...

Despite the sensitive subject matter, which would lend itself to even more daring representations, the direction avoids any possible voyeuristic complacency (the few nudities are extremely chaste, it must be specified...), focusing mainly on the characterisation of the protagonists, particularly Sonoko (Kishida Kyoko, perfect), the more mature of the two women, who, inexorably overwhelmed by the attraction and desire for Mitsuko (a beautiful and very excellent Wakao Ayako, a true muse of the director) progressively falls into a spiral of madness, without shame or any concern for -relative- consequences, including social ones.

Sonoko, a “bourgeois” woman with a rather conventional life, dissatisfied with the greyness of a loveless marriage, ends up suffering -and accepting- the overwhelming sensuality of the younger and more elusive Mitsuko who, with her ambiguities, duplicity and progressive lies, perfectly embodies that character figure who is characteristically anaffective, unscrupulous and cynically anti-naturalistic at the basis of Masumura's cinematography.

In this somewhat hyper-realist short circuit, Mitsuko ends up almost assuming the role of a sacerdotess, or goddess no less, thanks in part to her total identification with the portrait of the goddess Kannon, to whom she had lent herself more or less indirectly as a model, and who will find her reason for being in the concluding self-destructive spiral...

The two male figures, Sonoko's husband (Funakoshi Eiji) and Mitsuko's ex-lover (Kawazu Yusuke), emblematically miserable and devoid of any qualities, will progressively end up “sucked into the self-destructive vortex of a passion that, beyond its erotic dimension, will reveal itself above all as a struggle for the possession and annihilation of the other”.

Masumura's cinema is extreme, disorienting and in some ways disturbing (but he would go even further in subsequent years), capable of bending the rules of melodrama to his sharp vision that plumbs the depths and highlights false bourgeois conventions, even repressive ones on the subject of sexuality, highlighting a radical critique of the hypocrisies of Japanese society.

It is not known whether Tanizaki was able to see (and appreciate or not) this reduction of his beautiful novel (the writer died the following year, in 1965), but it must be said, beyond the personal tastes of each spectator, that Masumura offers a decidedly respectful and even faithful representation of the most important passages, allowing us for once not to turn up our noses and find a pleasant exception to the age-old dilemma of the quality of films based on novels, more or less representable in cinematographic format...

8 ½

* I would like to indirectly thank the author Beniamino Biondi for his courageous work ‘ Giganti e Giocattoli - Il Cinema di Yasuzo Masumura’, for the many news and interesting insights; And, as always, for the beautiful catalogue ‘Racconti Crudeli di Gioventù’ (Nuovo Cinema Giapponese degli anni 60), Marco Muller and Dario Tomasi; Their essay is an inexhaustible and irreplaceable source when writing reviews…

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When You get a rent-free house, the catch is around the corner...

Just arrived in a small town, the tax collector (or scholar, depending on the translation A/N) Ning Caichen (Chao Lei), unable to find accommodation for the night, chooses to take refuge in a temple outside the village limits, despite the warnings of many people, who are convinced that the place is haunted by evil presences.
The villagers' ominous superstitions prove correct: The temple Jinhua appears to be cursed…
And from the manor house near the temple, a delightful young girl (Betty Loh Ti) sings, accompanying herself on the koto…

An essential classic born from the fertile creative forge of the Shaw Brothers studios and the talent of director Li Han-hsiang (also author of the subsequent and magnificent ‘The Love Eterne’), which is not always fully recognised, “The Enchanting Shadow” is an imaginative work that transcends genres and styles, thanks to its fluid and modern staging and truly exquisite use of photography, with magnificent visual effects and colour schemes.

A true pivot point in fantasy productions (a definition that, much like black, wears well with everything), the movie, which draws inspiration from Pu Songling's collection ‘Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio,’ it was released in the summer of 1960 and also competed at the Cannes Film Festival that same year, and it is certainly not pure fantasy to think that the work sparked some ideas in the minds of directors, producers, etc. in the Western film industry as well.

Considered by Riccardo Esposito, in his seminal book “Fant'Asia”, a sort of Oriental “proto-horror”, as well as an undeniable source of inspiration for Tsui Hark and his “A Chinese Ghost Story” (which is in fact a remake of it), ‘The Enchanting Shadow’ (but the original title is “Qian Nü You Hun”, which we will not translate so as not to reveal too much!) after so many years, it continues to prove itself well structured and highly enjoyable to watch, thanks to its appreciable, decidedly classic narrative structure (widely replicated and exploited over the years), which manages to condense the tale into less than 90 minutes, while also allowing for interesting genre mixtures that help to keep the viewer's attention alive throughout.

A striking mix of melodramatic and supernatural elements, enhanced by a fundamental musical complement and interesting horror digressions, the film captivates with its charm and evocative power, which, despite a context that is certainly not rich and perhaps even a little naive and hand-crafted, undoubtedly achieves its objectives of interest and entertainment, thanks not only to the remarkable work of the authors, but also to the clever use of ellipses and off-screen sequences and, of course, the excellent contribution of a perfectly cast ensemble.

Chao Lei, in the role of the initially timorous Ning Caichen, is the archetypal character of this genre of movies; A curious intellectual, attracted by the mystery surrounding the temple—which is truly creepy at night—guided by honesty and moral rectitude against fear and popular superstitions, he meets Yan Chixia (Yang Chih-ching), a sort of swordsman/hermit (and also a singer) who immediately makes it clear that he knows a lot about the terrifying voices surrounding the ruined building.

Ning thus inevitably and progressively becomes the “perfect prey” of Nie Xiaoqian, a mysterious young woman played by the captivating and irresistible Betty Loh Ti, who, thanks to her excellent performance, ends up being the real focus of the movie.

From her first appearance, the beautiful actress exudes a magical aura, placing her character in a decidedly “fantastic” dimension, so much so that we immediately wonder whether Nie Xiaoqian is a real woman or perhaps “something else”.

Each of her “appearances” (it is appropriate to write it this way) deeply affects – and progressively more and more – poor Ning, who desperately tries to resist the young girl’s enchanting exploits from the seductive temptations of the flesh to those that are decidedly more materialistic (his goodness, one might say!), especially as he discovers, as the story advances, unthinkable truths about the aforementioned girl, truths that will inevitably shake his most firmly held convictions.

The work of the director of photography is truly remarkable, playing with the colours, contrasts and shadows of the night in the temple, in a happy chromatic combination with the beautiful clothes of the protagonist (each time in different colours variations), particularly the blue tones at the moment of the (not too surprising) “confession”.

This is a detail that should not be underestimated and that allows me to digress briefly:
In the years that followed, American director Roger Corman, thanks to the contribution of his extraordinary director of photography Floyd Crosby, would often replicate this visual trickery, especially in his series of movies based on the stories of Edgar Allan Poe and, also in Italy, Mario Bava - who, curiously, released his extraordinary classic ‘La Maschera del Demonio’ [“Black Sunday”] in the same year, 1960 -, will amaze with his subsequent horror productions, exploiting visually ‘colourful’ techniques not unlike those appreciated here in ‘The Enchanting Shadow’;
As if to recreate a metaphorical bridge capable of highlighting the wonderful ability of the seventh art to transcend boundaries and find happy stylistic points of encounter...

Undoubtedly a pivotal work in the development of Hong Kong genre cinema, ‘The Enchanting Shadow’, as a classic, continues to be enjoyed thanks to its old-fashioned charm, or ‘vintage’ appeal, if you will, which many may find outdated or obsolete, but which, to me personally, makes it formally exemplary, thanks to the right atmosphere and the skilful hybridisation of different genres (a feature that will later become recurrent), capable of being appreciated by the most willing and discerning viewers...

8 ½

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"Climb every mountain, ford every stream, follow every rainbow, till you find your dream.”

As an extraordinary example of passion, strength of spirit, resilience and sense of sacrifice, surrounded by a eulogy to friendship and team work, “Once in a Lifetime, Kilimanjaro” is a highly successful and beautiful representation of great television at the service of the viewer, exciting and moving, passionate and amusing, capable of concentrating in its nine -extraordinary- episodes all the characteristic elements of an adventure through one of the most fascinating places in the world; The true protagonist of this saga is Mount Kilimanjaro, one of the most enchanting peaks on our planet, as well as the highest mountain - a sleeping volcano, it must be remembered - on the African continent (5895m)...

Brilliant was the idea of forming an absolutely heterogeneous team by bringing together three idols of different generations, from the veteran and very talented Yoon Eun Hye (38 years old during the show's production) to the relatively younger colleague Uee (a revelation!) to the “little” - and surprising - Choi Hyo Jung, as well as the excellent Son Ho Jun, perfectly cast in the part of the oppa always chivalrously ready to do anything for his fellow adventurers...

Having passed without any particular effort the phase of getting to know each other and finding team cohesion (which will prove to be absolutely granitic), the four protagonists, who had never met before and who freely establish their respective roles and assignments, are also prepared from a medical point of view, about all the risks and eventualities they will -presumably- encounter and then catapulted into the extraordinary scenery of Tanzania, and us with them, to appreciate all the beauties and peculiarities of a world so fascinating and in many ways quite distant from the lifestyle of many of us;

It is precisely this exquisite and highly successful melting pot of seemingly distant worlds that delineates the first part of the journey to Tanzania, during which the four characters will find themselves interacting with the local residents, in a multi-faceted socio-cultural exchange that will not fail to recreate conditions of friendship and mutual collaboration, which will also be fundamental during the climbing of the mountain...

Without prejudices or cultural barriers, through even daring linguistic adjustments (the only flaw is that the four Korean artists display a limited knowledge of English), the first days of their stay in Tanzania will allow the protagonists of the adventure to enjoy some of the most beautiful experiences possible, from a photographic safari through the boundless Ngorongoro National Park, to a walk to the majestic Materuni Waterfalls, to a dip and a swim in the natural oasis of the beautiful Chemka hot springs, as well as appreciating the culinary delicacies of the characteristic cuisine of those places

But the days go by and the beginning of the adventure draws nearer and nearer, with the relative and growing tension;
Kilimanjaro is there and watches majestically, ready to take centre stage in the following episodes; and it is here that the show displays all its beauty and drama with a change of narrative register that, of course, takes into account the extraordinary difficulty of the mission that will last for several - endless - days...

It would be unfair to dwell on particular episodes, moments or situations because it would detract from the charm of the vision; personally, I trembled for all the last episodes, possessed by an almost “Herzogian” cinematic visual power (Werner Herzog being the most immediate reference); The great German filmmaker often portrayed in his works the disruptive force of nature and as a counterbalance the fragility of man often helpless in its presence, at the mercy of events - even mortal ones...

Here, one can almost perceive a metaphysical dimension of what can be defined as a journey that is not only physical and corporeal (and absolutely gruelling for the body, moreover!), but also interior and extrasensory, with an almost Zen-like awareness of one's goals, objectives and limits, which one always strives to push beyond. An experience that is at times almost psychedelic, thanks also to the incredible landscape - moon-like or Dante's Inferno, just to be clear - of Kilimanjaro and the changes in appearance and climate as you climb towards the summit.

With a heart-wrenching ending that leaves no one indifferent, ‘Once In a Lifetime Kilimanjaro’ perfectly completes its incredible mission, winning the challenge of the spectacle and conveying a wide variety of truly unique emotions.

There were many memorable moments in the show; at times, it almost seemed like a Yoon Eun Hye show, given how the actress—who is truly amazing - manages to discipline herself into the role of the perfect Unnie, putting her completely at the service of her younger companions and her peer Son Ho Jun, with a sense of duty that is truly unmatched in terms of organisational skills and discipline, as well as giving us sincere and personal moments that also seem to sum up an artist who has been in the spotlight since a young age (she made her debut at 16);

Uee is perhaps the most surprising of the bunch, coming into her own in the long run. The sketches where she plays a swimming instructor or the chance encounter with her personal fans are really enjoyable. The idol grows in willpower and determination throughout the show, as does the younger Choi Hyo Jung, who is gorgeous and cheerful, always smiling, even in the most extreme moments, and appears very determined, thanks in part to the responsibility she has taken on with her surprising appointment to her role.

Son Ho Jun, also without frills or too many words, will prove to be extraordinary during the climb, significantly placing himself at the head of the variegated group; between singing jam sessions that once again demonstrate the extraordinary unifying power of music that breaks down barriers and knows no boundaries, improvised performances of the famous local coffee (with funny digressions on “Coffee Prince” and “Coffee Friends”), solidarity and friendship, personal crises and progressive defections, the incredible physical endurance of the local guides and carriers, the non-stop whirlwind of emotions makes the nine intense episodes fly by, giving us a wonderful adventure, at least for me, which I highly recommend to everyone.

9/10

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“In a black and white world murder brings a touch of colour…”

The sudden death of a young school teacher, at first classified as ‘accidental’ is treated as a murder, when an anonymous letter kindles suspicions in maverick policeman Takeshi Ujou (Toru Nakamura, perfectly in part), stubbornly determined to pursue the investigation. The discovery that the victim had taken out an insurance policy for 5 million yen also alerts the ‘Rose Life Insurance’ company, determined to find out whether there might be some controversy or irregularity behind the teacher's death; The young Eiki Hirokawa (Yutaka Takenouchi, excellent), investigating on behalf of the aforementioned insurance company, makes the acquaintance of Touko Egi (Nanako Matsushima, very beautiful and subtly ambiguous), another teacher and colleague of the victim, a woman who seems to be involved in other similar cases and who seems to have an unfortunate relationship with men... and with insurance policies...

An excellent noir with an evident hard-boiled derivation, ‘Ice World’ is a journey into the tortuous twists and turns of the human mind, capable of growing exponentially as the episodes pass, involving the watcher in a story with infinite facets, where, in full compliance with the rules of the genre, nothing is left to chance, and where tension and the search for truth go hand in hand with the doubts and ambiguities dictated by the complex psychologies of the main characters...

There is an undoubtedly old-fashioned vibe, the kind that was very trendy -especially in U.S.-made productions. towards the second half of the 1980s and the early 1990s, which provide the ideal frame for the series, those soft lights, mainly nocturnal, and a cold, livid, not to say chilling atmosphere, with photography tending to turn blue - especially in the scenes at the bar - and where even the daytime moments are often played out in contrast, with backlighting effects, almost ‘blinding’ the gaze as well as the minds and reasoning of the main players, gripped by a thousand doubts, even of a personal nature...

This atmosphere is amplified also by an effective use of striking images and symbolism, such as the sea, photographs, and that repeated reference to the ice pick (so ‘90s-esque), as well as a decidedly remarkable job by the entire cast, which, working in subtraction, with an extremely suffered and interiorised acting, increases the narrative's charm; Nor should a particular voyeuristic component be underestimated, characterised by the ambiguous relationship established between the policeman and the suspect, as well as the repeated viewing of photos and footage, aimed at finding possible solutions...

Cold, seemingly detached and ambivalent characterisations become a fundamental narrative peculiarity, since the ambiguity displayed by all the main characters in the story considerably complicates the unravelling of the classic ‘whodunit’, leading the viewer towards false tracks, revaluations and various twists and turns, which serve to reshuffle the cards on the table and confuse -even more- ideas, given the rather elaborate plot...

The narrative climax, in my opinion, is reached in the tenth and penultimate episode, decidedly of excellent quality and narrative writing, where - in the first portion - all the suspicions, the investigations carried out up to that moment, and even certain ‘evidence’, tend towards a solution that is undoubtedly ‘justified’ and well explained, but then, in the final part of the story, a logical reversal will lead us to the excellent closure of the story, well thought out and in some ways saddening, where the fatalistic dimension of hard-boiled American literature mentioned above is really manifest...

Undoubtedly enjoyable even years later thanks to a definite narrative strength and the excellent cast already mentioned, the serial lends itself to further viewing, especially in order to unravel more easily the intricate and engaging story
Waiting for a remake Made in South Korea

8/10

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Come Spy With Me...?

Adventurous North Korean wannabe secret agent Myung Wol's whirlwind mission to South Korea (Han Ye-seul), amidst capricious Hallyu stars (Eric Mum), spy stories centred around mysterious papers, kidnappings, blackmail, lies and confessions, as well as the discovery of love, with the glittering world of show business providing the backdrop for the whole story...

This dizzying spy-derived rom-com starts off rather well but ends up - unfortunately - deflating a bit like a soufflé. It manages to get a number of cues right, starting with the setting in the gilded and ephemeral world of South Korean showbiz and - as an amusing counterpoint - the impeccable practical military education of their North Korean brothers, filling it all with adequate subplots and good secondary characters, and through a good narrative rhythm that for most of the series keeps the attention threshold quite high...

And there is undoubtedly a certain sympathy for the story, at least at first, only that, once the initial euphoria has passed a little, with the character definitions of the main figures, a certain mechanicalness inevitably takes over, which makes the whole thing get bogged down into a conventional action spy drama that is rather repetitive and even predictable in its conclusions...
Too bad, with the good premise of the first half and a more than successful cast of characterisations as a whole, a shorter running time (why not the classic 16 episodes instead of these 18!?) would certainly have benefited, which would probably have limited so many unnecessary lengthy episodes as well as recurring repetitions, especially in the last episodes of the series.

Was there any need for so many sentimental bounces between the main characters, in addition to the constant reversals of situations linked around the mysterious code!? It triggers a tedious back-and-forth that inevitably loses intensity and bite, with continuous betrayals and rapprochements that in the long run tire without ever really getting to the point, even if, by the way, in the wedding scene some pathos is fortunately recovered, although directing the series towards a clichéd and decidedly half-hearted finale...

Han Ye Seul offers a portrayal that personally reminded me of certain fine characters from 1980s Cold War period cinema, a bit like some James Bond of the Roger Moore era; the transition from the uncompromising North Korean agent, a real fighting machine, to the rising star of South Korean cinema is so dizzying that one cannot help but smile with amusement at so many narrative twists and turns…

Moreover, these junctures allow the stunning model actress to bring out a wide range of nuances of her excellent repertoire, synthesised in the actor's audition scene and, as fortunately happens from time to time, to make us admire her in all her extraordinary beauty (absolutely unforgettable in mini shorts for much of the show!).

Eric Mum has a somewhat peculiar role, in some respects it reminded me of Rain's character in ‘Full House’; all the nervousness and excesses of capricious stars used to bossing everyone around, only to come up against the inevitable reality of feelings, it's a character however not well centred, he has the inevitable trauma related to his father (which will later intertwine with another fundamental juncture of the drama) but personally does not arouse any particular character sympathies in me even though several moments with Ye Seul are undoubtedly intense and beautiful, see the scene in the cave with the ‘advanced survival course’ which is really funny and successful!

Interesting enough are the roles of Lee Jin Wook and Jang Hee Jin, who clearly share a similar fate in terms of overt sentiments, perhaps not sufficiently deepened, she especially deserving of a slightly more ‘’temperamental‘’ part even if her artistic-sentimental outbursts provoke just the right amount of amusement…

The ‘married’ spy couple is very good, with the whole ‘vintage’ secret agent corollary, which, underneath it all, does not deny the comforts of the South, compared to the ‘military greyness’ of the DPRK, and Lee Deok Hwa is perfect as always - priceless in the duets with his niece - who, with that scowl and charisma, can sustain any role!

It would have taken more courage and better synthesising skills to put on a gem of a drama, but even so it is
a series that still provides good entertainment and guaranteed involvement, personally a more than generous
7/10

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THE GOLDEN AGE OF BLOODSHED

The epic, troubled and adventurous story of Kim Deokman (Lee Yo-won), daughter of Jinpyeong (Jo Min-Ki), 26th King of Silla; Twin sister of Princess Cheonmyeong (Park Ye Jin), abandoned at birth to avoid a nefarious prophecy about the kingdom, raised by her servant/putative mother Sohwa (Seo Young-Hee), pursued by guardian/concubine Lady Mishil (Go Hyun-jung) and her hitman ChilSuk (Ahn Kil-Kang); From her disguised return to Seorabeol, to the war against the Baekje kingdom, to the recovery of her royal status, torn between her repressed love for Lord Kim Yushin (Uhm Tae-woong), valiant leader of the Hwarang militia, and Bidan (Kim Nam Gil), repudiated son of noble origin, through the complicated mission of reunifying the three kingdoms of Silla, Baekje and Goguryeo...

Fluvial, titanic, grandiose and impressive storytelling, decidedly exciting, at times even quite confusing, especially for a westerner like myself, unfamiliar with such particular events in Korean history due to the paucity of available sources, ‘Queen SeonDeok’ inevitably has all the merits, but also several defects of a truly impressive production for the material represented.

A mixture of the most disparate genres, Sageuk, Wuxiapian, Chamber drama, War movie, Comedy, Historical melodrama, Coming-of-age story, Family drama (it should not be forgotten how it is already, from the very beginning, the story of a family abandonment), Spy story, Study of Astrology and Astronomy, Treatise on Science and Popular Traditions, Politics and Agriculture, Military strategy, a sprinkling of Fantasy that never hurts, a combination of genres miraculously in balance, at least for most of the tale, thanks to an exciting story, never banal and always capable of relaunching the action, keeping the spectator's attention.

Very difficult to describe, it would be unfair and reductive to try to bring order to the river of events that manages to effectively romanticise historical veracity with legends and traditions, real characters with others of dubious correspondence, as well as genealogical timings adapted to narrative consequentiality and fluidity...

Perhaps the most fascinating and engaging aspect of the drama, in my opinion, is this multifaceted storytelling, whirlwind of events, with multiple subplots and jumps between genres, put in place precisely to involve every type of viewer as much as possible, given that in the 62 episodes everything and the very opposite of everything happens repeatedly;

Mind you, this is a great and adventurous epopee, inside there are whole episodes with extraordinary battle scenes employing hundreds of perfectly coordinated characters, blood flows like a Sam Peckinpah movie, and chaos -well organised- reigns supreme;

But the violence is never an end in itself, aesthetised or magnified, but sublimated by military sagacity, as for example in the siege of fortresses, in the reciprocal ambushes or in the use of the formidable archers, absolutely astonishing for their dynamism and thrilling involvement, even with night scenes of extraordinary filmic rendering; or through a sort of chivalrous code, as in the endless duels with swords, undoubtedly indebted to the universe of Kurosawa's cinema...

This alternation of action with only apparently more reflective moments, such as the repeated meetings of the opposing clans -the ‘official’ one of the King and the would-be usurper one of Lady Mishil- is decidedly fascinating, where strategies, betrayals, subtexts, countermoves and even murders dictate the political agenda of the troubled Kingdom of Silla, and where Go Hyun Jung's extraordinary charisma reigns supreme, portraying a Lady Mishil capable of subduing anyone with the sole force of her gaze (which is otherwise beautiful! ).

Then everything inevitably begins to get tighter and tighter, between the growing role of the people of Gaya, infighting that generates palace intrigues, betrayals, escapes and imprisonments, a resounding coup, as well as determining the prodromes of a civil war with the Custodian Mishil who, by now, no longer even hides her royal aims; it is a rather interesting moment in the drama that finds vigour and narrative thrust thanks to greater dynamism and repeated twists and turns, some absolutely implausible, but forcibly necessary for narrative continuity...

But ‘Queen SeonDeok’ is above all an articulate inner journey into the soul of Deokman, a complex character with many facets, tormented, marked by an inevitable fate made up of family losses and forced renunciations, also rich in contradictions and choices imposed by the role assigned to her; the beautiful portrayal of Queen SeonDeok of Silla, magnificently rendered by a Lee Yo-won perfectly suited to the part, restores to us all the pathos of a woman always poised between reason of state and emotions, determined, erudite and open to novelties in the most disparate fields of human knowledge;
Undoubtedly proto-feminist in her iron independence, fighting against the prejudices that would have her unsuitable for the role, she emerged as an ‘’illuminated‘’ sovereign with a ‘’modernist‘’ spirit, even of a ‘’socialist‘’ kind, in certain respects, thanks to certain decisions that were perhaps unpopular with the noble court, but openly favourable to the common people of the kingdom...

His sentimental torment, however, reveals an ill-concealed inner affliction, when the two male main characters, Yushin and Bidan, alternately, cause his soul to waver continuously, in what can be considered to all intents and purposes the most classic of tormented love triangles, where the two leads, the more intense Kim Nam-Gil and the (all too) compassionate Uhm Tae-woong will also see all their certainties redefined...

As they say, ‘Behind a great woman there is always a great man’ and it is interesting, in this case, how these two characterisations flourish directly under the cone of shadow of the two prima donnas, where Hwarang Yushin's total devotion to Deokman will be so unwavering that it will allow him to face and overcome the most daring missions and vicissitudes, while Bidan, excellently characterised by Kim Nam-Gil, progressively emerges as an absolutely tormented and contradictory character, in a multi-faceted love-hate relationship with Lady Mishil and, ironically, with an existence decidedly specular to Deokman's - both were abandoned at birth - and linked to her by an inevitable fate that will result in the most sheer melodrama of the last beautiful episodes...

As an extraordinary counterpart to Deokman's role we find, for a large part of the drama, Lady Mishil, concubine and custodian of the kingdom, a sort of uncrowned Queen, played by an extraordinary Go Hyun Jung; weaver of complex palace plots, a sort of priestess, sorceress, witch, manipulator, almost a female mafia chief in her determination and ruthlessness, Mishil more than once finds herself confronted and clashing with Deokman;
This is an extremely complex ethical-moral vision that is only partially divergent, since, through dialectic, repeated justifications for unlawful actions carried out for the survival and security of the kingdom, the two women, of clear cultural stature (Deokman, in one passage even goes so far as to quote Plutarch and his ‘Parallel Lives’) engage in a metaphorical chess game that in the course of the episodes will often overturn the dynamics and narrative junctures, leading to more than one doubt in the mind of the Queen-designate...

Besides Yushin and Bidan, mentioned above, some nodal figures emerge in the storytelling, such as ChilSuk, faithful servant of Lady Mishil, unstoppable assassin, for years in pursuit of Deokman, excellently rendered by the imperturbable Ahn Kil-Kang, his character has more than one point of contact with certain characterisations of Toshiro Mifune in the movies of Master Kurosawa...

The Princess Cheonmyeong, perfectly portrayed by a beautiful Park Ye Jin, absolutely perfect in the role and decidedly regal in her bearing, is a particular case in point. She is afflicted, along with her twin sister, by a destiny of mourning - the ‘curses’ thrown at her by Mishil are unbelievable! - and abandonment, because it must be reiterated, this is a story of loss and family betrayal that spares no one, where resentment between parents and children emerges repeatedly and dramatically, directly or indirectly, as in the specific case of Prince Kim ChunChu, son of Cheonmyeong, well portrayed by the young but already charismatic Yoo Seung-Ho...

Obviously, this is not a perfect drama, considering its massive length, the narrative fluidity is frayed at several points, there are various moments of tiredness, even tedious and repetitive, an off-screen voice of the simple narrator -maybe a character from the drama itself- could have streamlined and clarified the tortuous narrative better or added the right emphasis to the story, considering that more than once it is Mishil's brother, Mi Saeng (Jung Woong In, with a constantly querulous voice all the time, moreover) who reiterates what we have just seen;

We get embroiled in abstruse astrological theories or very long (and frankly tedious) fights between the Hwarangs that add little or nothing to the pathos so far determined; Incredible but true, there is even a certain superficiality in the close personal relationships: The family dynamics should definitely have been deepened with a more extensive use of flashback, absolutely effective for example on a highly dramatic episode of Bidan's youth, especially the relationship between the two twin princesses deserved more depth and more minute-length, in addition to the mother/son relationship between Cheonmyeong and Kim ChunChu, hastily resolved with a handful of letters, nothing more...

It is also quite evident the narrative forcing after the fiftieth episode; Logically, if the story were to end here, there would be nothing to object to, we have a Queen, defeated villains (or not!?), everyone happy and an ideal framework which, however, given the success of the series, was evidently not the intentions of the creators, who pack a new shuffle of the story, where the glorious people of Gaya (a sort of partisan rebellion towards Silla) and its most important representative return to the forefront, with a reversal of roles in which, however, everything seems sincerely forced, with even the Queen herself who does not seem to understand anything anymore, amidst malicious double-dealing councillors, Hamletic doubts, wrong governmental choices and even an exasperated irritation of Deokman herself...

Personally, the perceptive confusion grows as well, the years pass, but there is no visual evidence (probably, some dates or temporal ellipsis would have helped), certain characters grow old, others miraculously remain young, one guesses that about 10 years passed between the two wars against Baekje, all the main characters are invested with the highest offices, grow big beards and adopt the same hairstyle, as well as wearing the same armour;
But at least in the first period, a bit like football teams, the Hwarang wore different colours that made them immediately recognisable, good and bad, as Bidam also reminded us in his initial entries; but here, at a certain point, it looks like a Fukasaku yakuza movie, there is some confusion, which is the team of Mishil's family and which is the Queen's?

It shifts decisively towards the more intense romance, but there is no lack of countless battles, with decidedly clever tactical and ‘military technology’ gimmicks, the show regains its original vigour and moves towards a truly excellent ending;
The final balance is decidedly brilliant, but the feeling remains that, with a shorter length and less scattershot and repetitive lengthiness, it would have been an absolute masterpiece.

Truly many and beautiful unforgettable moments, amplified by an extraordinary variety of locations exploited:
The desert escape and chase, almost a western movie in terms of visual narrative, the endless battles between the Kingdoms of Silla and Baekje with excellent mass scenes, but also episodes of deep intimacy -which often determine the calm before the storm- such as the encounter between the two twins, their identical clothes and the comb, the cave and a diptych of intensely beautiful and tragic episodes...
The embrace with Sohwa, the summit between Mishil and Deokman in the open air, among the hills of the kingdom, the absolutely regal departure of one of the pivotal characters of the story (which, inevitably, loses much in the continuation), the last intense episode, with an almost Shakespearian breath and the beautiful finale - ‘I want to see the land, the sky and everything in between"- are just a few moments of an undoubtedly dense drama, at times truly unforgettable, supported by a magnificent cast at the service of a story that justifies -imho- the excellent overall rating expressed here on MDL, a wonderful experience, perhaps not easily revisable (but you never know! ) but certainly recommended to all!
8/10

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Was it ever settled, Was it ever over, And is it still raining, Back in November

The two best friends, the aspiring architect Yeon Seo and the scientist researcher Gyoo Eun (respectively Jung Ryeo Won and Kim So Yeon, both very excellent and gorgeous), by a strange twist of fate, and, ignoring randomness, they find themselves meeting and dating, at the same time, the architect Yoon Jae (Oh Ji Ho, excellent) who, like in an Eric Rohmer movie, with playful complacency, unwittingly flirts with both of them, but ends up choosing the more passionate Gyoo Eun;
Yeon Seo, despite her disappointment at the coincidence and relative ‘sentimental defeat’, accepts their union, in the name of the very strong friendship that binds her to Gyoo Eun, but a very tragic accident, during the honeymoon, will disrupt the lives of the three protagonists forever, bringing about dramatic and lacerating changes...

“TRY TO REMEMBER WHEN LIFE WAS SO TENDER WHEN DREAMS WERE KEPT BESIDE YOUR PILLOW.
TRY TO REMEMBER WHEN LIFE WAS SO TENDER WHEN LOVE WAS AN EMBER ABOUT TO BILLOW.”

As a product of a unique and, perhaps, unrepeatable season, ‘Autumn Shower’ is a beautiful and heartbreaking melodrama, marked by an underlying realism and a profound understanding of human frailty, capable of avoiding any easy moralism, circumventing the dangerous meshes of simple manichaeism, thanks to a remarkable script and an exemplary staging, capable of preserving such an equidistance that each (beautiful) main character in the story is confronted with his own weaknesses and his own reasons, in accordance with a deep understanding of human dynamics and, above all, of his own mistakes...

Ideally structured in two distinct segments (there is, of necessity, a ‘before’ and an ‘after’), with a first part of uncommon intensity, at times unbearable for the level of suffering represented -physical, of course, but also psychological - we are shown how a dramatic event - the incident and the coma - destroys the life not only of the victim, but also of the people most directly connected to her, with Yoon Jae, her husband anguished by guilt (he is directly responsible for everything that led to the incident), blamed by a livid Yeon Seo, but in fact ‘dumped’ even by his own family, who, in a moment of chilling selfishness, even proposes that he ‘abandon’ his wife (the marriage has not yet been officially registered) and immediately find for himself a new partner!

Love, duty, loneliness and repeated difficulties, even at work (total dedication to his wife, to the detriment of his own profession), on the shoulders of an all in all ordinary man, forced to face what is in any case considered a huge mistake and where the unpredictability of life can trigger a chain reaction, for which the moral condemnation is very little compared to the suffering already endured...

What may originally appear to be the ultimate act of unconditional love towards his bedridden wife, i.e. the subsequent registration of the marriage (‘Gyoo Eun, we are now officially husband and wife’), as well as the realisation of the dream house, will, on the contrary, represent a sort of ironic contrappasso in the development of the story...

And it is precisely in this desperate context, in this juggling of love, melancholy, discomfort and duty, between the despair of a possible extreme gesture and the promise made to his wife (‘I will wait for you, I will always be there for you’), that Yeon Seo slowly slips further and further into his life;

A tormented character on the verge of self-flagellation, Yeon Seo is initially torn by despair at her beloved friend's plight, but then by the inevitable torment at the betrayal perpetrated against her; the Australian interlude, an impossible ‘escape’ from feelings, even from those towards Soo Hyung, the doctor friend who has always been hopelessly in love with her, is only a postponement of the inevitable, all the more so because the deception is manifold, for in addition to the liaison, there is also betrayal of Soo Hyung himself, disillusioned by a naive and impossible acceptance of his love, and the consequent betrayal of the friendship between the two men, the doctor and the architect, who had for those two years formed a fraternal friendship.

“WE'RE TWO PEOPLE CAUGHT UP IN THE FLAME THAT HAS TO DIE OUT SOON”

At the moment when passion can no longer be repressed, where the selfishness derived from the awareness of feelings and the attainment of happiness predates, the clandestine couple flees from the world and their responsibilities (‘If we cannot go back in time, we must only follow our hearts’).
Escape as a necessity of life, as an impossible dream of a new existence, of a possible ‘familiar’ alternative in a fishermen's village, almost a ‘two hearts and a cabin’, as in the Italian expression, perfectly representative of the metaphorical separation from the outside world, sublimated by the renunciation of their telephones, and by their sincere and mutual confession recorded on an audiotape.

It is in this whirlwind of emotions that, ironically enough, the ‘miracle’ happens; the awakening from the coma is also an awakening of the senses in the two fugitives, who see their dreams of happiness shattered in the face of their new awareness; is a relocation of the story's pawns in the chessboard of life, the healing spell ‘condemns’ the players to their responsibilities, the husband must fulfil his duties and the lover flees again, going so far as to exclude herself from the general newfound happiness, avoiding the best friend who, unaware of everything, repeatedly seeks her out...

It is the moment when deception and guilt become unbearable, igniting the flame of suspicion in Gyoo Eun, initially unable to comprehend what everyone -except her- already knows, and which will be confirmed in the most direct and cruel way...

Yoon Jae is slowly squeezed between the two extremes, which plunge him into a vortex with no way out; he has no freedom to manoeuvre, only the fear of causing pain to one of the two women (wife or lover), the male protagonist, unintentionally cruel, forced by cowardice and insecurities to hurt the people he loves.

The female counterpart is split into two opposing and complementary characters (is she, on the whole, the image of the ideal woman!?), the lover, fragile and lonely, the wife who is determined to save her marriage, even at the sacrifice of friendship...

Adding salt to the wound is the unexpected pregnancy that carries much of the narrative scaffolding along the second half of the drama, decidedly unconventional in the way it relegates the male character to the background, leaving room for Yeon Seo's existential subjectivity, and the drama of the abortion, evidently sparked off by the stress arising from the confrontation-clash with Gyoo Eun, who is also, at this point, marked by feelings of guilt towards her (ex!?) friend who, once again, condemns herself to a wandering, a voluntary exile reminiscent of the existential path of a heroine from an old-fashioned melodrama...

“I'M LOSING MORE THAN I'LL EVER HAVE”

Does time heal all the wounds!?
After all this tourbillon of emotions, the question arises, because ‘Autumn Shower’, at least for my personal taste, is an all-encompassing experience, a sort of umpteenth interior road movie that leaves more doubts than certainties; a delicate study of feelings, a metaphor of maturation and - once again! - end of youthful dreams, well exemplified by Yeon Seo's touching letter;

Probably nothing seems destined to last, but the memory of past happiness is still alive in her heart and she will not accept to let it go. Who knows, with the course of time, maybe...

‘I loved them both, I am sorry because I loved them. And I am sorry because I could not be there for them.’

Magnified in its beauty by an absolutely brilliant cast, perfectly assembled in all the roles, with the two prima donnas playing a giant role in a splendid competition of bravura, with an excellent soundtrack that is so ‘out of time’ it manages to describe a world that perhaps no longer even exists, with those showers of rain that accompany the most touching moments of the story, 'Autumn Shower' seems to reflect, perfectly, that idea of the caducity of life, a sense of poignant melancholy (it is impossible to think of the story in another season!), the ideal passage from the season of joyful and unbridled vitality to that of calm and reflection...

Yet another significant piece that legitimises the multifaceted greatness of the Dramaverse.
8½ / 10

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