Reviews

A film based on a true story

For those of you who didn't understand the ending (why the actor looks at the camera and breaks the 4th wall) :

First of all this movies is based on a true story. Keep that in mind.

The events in the movie happens in 1986.
The movies came out in 2003.
The killer confessed in 2019

Okay, now that you have some context, here is my interpretation. There is 2 actually.

1. The actor may have looked at the camera after the girls said that the man looked "kind of plain" because well, WE, us, the viewers are normal, plain, ordinary. It means that the murderer may have been anyone. Any korean if i may say so. A normal citizen hiding in plain sight.

2. As I said in 2003, the killer had not confessed to his crimes yet, not until 2019. That is why, thinking that the killer might be watching the movie, the director made the actor look at the camera who may be watching the movie. (If it was the reason, well, it's awesome!).

Anyways, the movies was amazing, great cinematography and as always Bong Joon-Ho did not disappoint.

Read More

When the movie surpasses the series!!!!

Disclaimer: This is a resubmission of my original review to match my current writing style for BL series that were edited into a movie version.

The series/movie: Overall, this was a beautiful and heartwarming story. The script was wonderful and not overly dramatic. It also reviled the ugly truth about the music industry on how it views their artist as products and not as humans. However, the main problem with the series version is it feels incomplete due to a lot of missing content. As for the actors, all of them did an incredible job. The music was great which is good considering this is about the music industry. They also did a good job with the music placement throughout the series/movie. The cinematography was beautiful.

The movie: They did a great job editing the episodes into one cohesive movie. As for the content, this is another great example of why editing is important. The series version suffered from very poor editing. The movie version has a lot of extra scenes which added so much to the story. It also helped make the conflict scenario introduce towards the end not seem random. There were a few scene placements that were changed and some scenes cut short.

Random note:

A strongly recommend watching the movie version!!!! There is about 15 extra scenes in the movie that the series does not have. I’m very puzzled on their decision with not including all the extra scenes.

I watched this on Netflix when it was still available in the U.S. (it was listed as Wish You) not knowing this was a BL series turned into a movie. It is a shame that it’s no longer available in the U.S. because the English subtitles were better.

Read More

He forgets the past — but carries its weight, one name at a time, until memory becomes justice

"Remember" ist a Film about Revenge, Memory, and the Echo of History
An old man. A revolver. Five names tattooed on his fingers — and a memory slowly fading. "Remember" is no ordinary revenge thriller. It’s a film about guilt, about forgetting — and about what remains when history isn’t confronted, but buried.

At its center is Han Pil-joo, portrayed masterfully by Lee Sung-min. Before his memory slips away for good, he has one last mission. At his side: the young In-gyu (Nam Joo-hyuk), who only meant to drive the old man — and suddenly finds himself an accomplice in a revenge mission that is as absurd as it is moving.

What makes the film so remarkable is its tone: poised between tragedy and dark humor, between road movie and history lesson. This is no hero’s journey, but a moral dilemma — laced with dry wit, laconic dialogue, and a kind of tender melancholy. The camera remains still, the violence understated, almost quiet. And yet it cuts deep.

"Remember" is more than a thriller — it’s a commentary on Korea’s unresolved colonial past. From 1910 to 1945, Korea was under Japanese rule — a traumatic era that still reverberates. Many Koreans were forced into labor, women abused as so-called “comfort women.” And yet, some Koreans collaborated — out of fear, opportunism, or conviction.

The film poses an uncomfortable question: What if those collaborators survived — and simply continued their careers after 1945? What if they now sit in high offices, as businessmen, politicians, patriarchs? "Remember" hints at this — and leaves the audience with the haunting question of whether justice expires. Or whether, sometimes, it needs an old man with a gun.

In Korea, the topic remains sensitive. Official reckoning was long delayed, many archives stayed sealed, many names unspoken. And while Japan still struggles with a clear apology, Korea wrestles with its own culture of remembrance: How do you remember betrayal without losing yourself?

"Remember" doesn’t answer that. But it asks the right questions. And it does so through a protagonist who forgets — and in doing so, reminds us.

Read More

It subtly wrapped me in its delicate web of pansori & quietly etched itself into my heart

I never imagined, at the beginning of the KMovie Seopyeonje, that this film would take such hold of me — that it would subtly wrap me in its delicate web of pansori sounds and, by the end, leave me deeply moved and emotionally full in a way that defies comparison. On the contrary, I was even tempted to stop watching early on… and yet, quietly, Seopyeonje etched itself into my heart.

It is a silent masterpiece. Poetry in images. Minimalism that omits nothing, but says only what must be said.

And then: that moment when the spark of Han — that deeply rooted feeling of loss, pain, and longing — is passed on. Not with pathos. But with a quiet glance. A melody. An unfinished sentence.

Obviously, I give it my highest praise. And I’m far from the first. Seopyeonje was initially shown only in Seoul in 1993, but audiences were so moved that it expanded nationwide — against all expectations. Soon, over a million people had seen this quiet film, which offers no spectacle, yet unfolds an overwhelming inner force. Many critics still speak of it as a turning point in Korean cinema — the first serious attempt to explore cultural roots on screen, with pride, depth, and quiet beauty.


------------------- Pansori, Han, and the School of Sorrow -------------------------------------

The title Seopyeonje refers to one of the three main styles of pansori: the western style, particularly solemn and perhaps the most technically demanding. But Seopyeonje is more than music — it is narrative, sound, breath. A life theme for the protagonists, a central motif of the film, a spiritual core. And a mirror of suffering that is not confined to the Korean peninsula.

Han — in Korean — does not describe individual pain, but a collective, deep-seated wound. Initially shaped by colonization, division, and bondage. Yet Han is not just sorrow — it is also strength. Grief that does not fade, but perhaps can be transformed. Into music. Into movement. Into memory.

Seopyeonje lives from this. The film does not force us to feel — it invites us. Into quiet images. Into pauses. Into the invisible between the notes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


This KMovie is a staging like a song cast in light. What director Im Kwon-taek achieves here is more than cinema. It is like a sung poem. The camera is almost motionless, as if not to disturb the sound. Landscapes do not pass by — they linger. Colors — especially white, brown, deep red — seem to come from memory, not the present. Every scene is composed like a measure in a long song.

The film speaks a quiet cinematic language: where others insert dialogue, Seopyeonje remains silent — or lets a pansori piece speak. When Song-hwa sings, time stands still. And perhaps that is the film’s greatest magic: that by the end, you forget you’re watching — and begin to listen.

The film’s deepest rupture is not loud — it happens almost in passing. Song-hwa, the adopted daughter, loses her sight. What first appears as tragedy becomes a disturbing act of devotion: her father Yu-bong takes her sight so she must rely solely on hearing — to fully merge with pansori. It is both sacrifice and violation, unsettling and ambiguous. Yet Seopyeonje does not judge — it lets us feel for ourselves whether there is beauty or destruction in it.

Song-hwa’s singing after her blindness is purer, clearer, more piercing. But at what cost? That remains open — like so much in this film. And perhaps that is its greatest truth: that no answer needs to be loud to be valid.








------------------------------------ SIDE NOTE: Pansori – Sound as Cultural Memory -------------------------------------------

Pansori is not just an art form — it is a cultural memory. For centuries, this epic singing tradition has been performed in Korea by a solo singer accompanied by a drummer — with voice, gesture, breath. The stories, often hours long, blend folk tales with literary depth, improvisation with ritual.

Originally developed in Korea’s southwest, pansori was long a folk art passed down orally. Only in the 19th century did it gain recognition among the urban elite. But with modernization, the knowledge began to fade — until 1964, when the Korean government designated it a National Intangible Cultural Heritage. In 2003, UNESCO added it to its list of Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.

This recognition was more than a title — it was a lifeline. Since then, pansori has been actively supported, taught, and passed on. And yet: the original spontaneity, the free improvisation that once gave it magic, has become rarer. Many performances now follow fixed texts, and audiences are less familiar with the old codes. But the sound remains. And with it, what Seopyeonje so powerfully shows: that a single voice can carry an entire world.

Read More

Because sometimes the quietest films leave the deepest marks — through glances, silence, and soul

The Match – A Silent Duel and the Echo of a Game
A board, 361 intersections, two players — and between them, an entire life: The Match is many things at once. A biographical drama about two icons of South Korean Go. A quiet tragedy about pride and letting go. And not least, a poetic exploration of a game that, in Korea, means far more than victory or defeat.

What captivates critics and fans alike is the film’s restraint. No dramatic bombast, no artificially inflated tension. Glances speak, cuts breathe, and silence lingers. Experts praised the precision: how actually real matches were re-enacted with exacting detail, and how the psychological depth of competition was rendered authentically. It is a film that resonates long after the credits roll because it speaks in subtleties: of ambition, betrayal, affection, and quiet determination.

At its heart: Lee Byung-hun as the driven veteran Cho Hun-hyun, defending his throne from his own protégé — and Yoo Ah-in as the gentle, reserved Lee Chang-ho, who speaks only through the board. Both deliver brilliant performances without pathos. Their glances are statements. Their hands speak louder than words. Especially striking: a scene where Cho sits alone in the dojang, sensing his student’s shadow — in silence. Yet thus he reveals everything. Supporting actors like Kim Kang-hoon (as young Lee) or Heo Sung-tae blend seamlessly into this atmosphere of quiet intensity.

So what is The Match really about? Not just Go. It’s about the fragile bond between mentor and student. About the question: when does leadership become control? When does gratitude become a shackle? And perhaps: how do you respond when your own “clone” becomes better — and turns your strategies into revolution?

Only against this backdrop does Baduk in The Match reveal its true meaning. It’s no coincidence that Korea's national heroes are born not on soccer fields, but at the Go board. Because here, the game is not mere competition, but a quiet cultural treasure — a space where personality reveals itself, even when lips stay silent. The Match is not just a story of two players — it’s an explanation of why that story matters.










------------------------------------- side note on baduk ---------------------------------------------------


MORE THAN A GAME: BADUK IN KOREA
It’s fascinating how such a quiet sport can shape the thinking of a society. To outsiders, it might look like a dry ritual: two players leaning silently over a wooden board, fingers poised over black or white stones, a soft click on lacquered wood — and seemingly not much happening. But in Korea, Baduk is far more than a game. It’s a mindset. A way of life. A mirror of character. And for some, a destiny.

Its roots reach back to the 1st century BCE, yet it’s more alive than ever — on TV screens, in schools, street cafés, and quiet dojangs. Millions watch live tournaments on television, narrated by experts who analyze every stone like a line of poetry. Children attend Baduk academies while their peers elsewhere take to soccer fields. Because here, it’s not about goals — it’s about thinking in long arcs.

What makes Baduk in Korea so unique is its philosophical depth. It shows how character takes shape: Who takes risks? Who builds with foresight? Who sacrifices wisely? It rewards patience and long-term strategy — often across dozens of moves. Koreans don’t call it “waiting,” but ´insight´.

The rules are simple — capture by encirclement, passing, the K.O. rule — and yet it unfolds into a universe with more possible games than atoms in the cosmos. No match is the same. And when two evenly matched players meet, something poetic happens: a poem in black and white.

In a country marked by speed, change, and technology, Baduk feels almost anachronistic. And yet that’s where its power lies. It represents the contemplative, disciplined, and introspective Korea. It teaches us to leave space — and still be present. To anticipate setbacks — and turn shadows into strength. To play Baduk is to learn more than rules: it’s to learn posture.

Lee Chang-ho, around whom The Match revolves, was known as the master of silence. He didn’t win through aggression — but by avoiding mistakes. His style was almost invisible, yet unstoppable — like water. It’s no wonder he became a hero. And the film, a mirror of that quiet greatness.

Read More

I wanted so much to love it but it fell short

Years ago I saw & loved the original Taiwanese version- & Highly anticipated a Korean version, especially with D.O. in a romantic role . As of this writing it is on Amazon Prime video [for purchase.] I dread saying it but to be brutally honest, [and honesty in this instance does feel brutal] It felt rushed , right from the start. The original version suffered from the same issue . There needed to be a sense that the leads were meeting over a few weeks , if not a few months to build a relationship. Another negative was that the camera gives you whiplash as it bounces back & forth around in different scenes (piano competition "duel" for instance) . Beautiful scenes lacked seamlessness making for a disjointed storyline. I blame the director & the editor for depriving us of perfection :P
That said; I will watch it again, good cast, lovely romance (even if it is too quickly started)

Read More

One long joke . Stuffed with tropes, but Daniel Henney is in it

the only thing keeping this movie from a 1 star rating is Daniel Henney & the fact that they keep repeating Sweet Sorrow 's song "Tangdanghan Kunyoga Arumdada (Seducing Mr.Perfect OST)".
There is really too many of the typical tropes: getting drunk & doing karoke then mouthing off at the boss, the piggy back ride, the drunken kiss, the constant running into each other, the embarrassing moments. And though Henney really does his part, somehow the movie just doesn't work. It doesn't pull your heart strings or cause you to care.Maybe it's because the 2 leads don't have really any chemistry. But mostly I think alot of the fault lies in the way the characters are written.(& of course the tropes) The romantic happy ending is cut short & skips to a more modern one with Henney confessing to her family that he loves her, he just has no plans to marry her. Yeah, that pretty much puts him in the same category as all of June's former boyfriends...using her until they get tired of her. So everything she's learned about self respect is put aside

Read More

unmemorable

it's one of the first Asian movies I watched, back when I did not know that mydramalist existed, so all I wrote for notes is the rating. I remember the premise (it's the same as the American remake ) but this a better movie. I found the story sad. I enjoyed the dancing & the music. I especially like how there is not alot of chatter for filler, but it lets the story have quiet reflective or other quiet but powerful moments, something American films rarely do. I'm not partial to sad stories, & this was a one sided romance that wasn't going to go anywhere, so it really didn't appeal to me

Read More

back to gamble

i was so glad that i was able to watch it on japan airlines, on the way to japan.

this movie continues 2 years later from the drama, trillion game. if you are wondering if you should watch the drama before the movie, you have to or else you would be very confused.

haru and his company is so back with the dream of being the first company to open up a casino in japan... the start was never easy with the objections of the citizens... how would trillion game win the heart of the citizens?

after winning the heart of the citizen, trillion game casino is opened with gaku's top notch security. but no matter, how good the security is, there will always be a loophole which brings trouble to trillion game! did haru got shot? well, i shall not tell you about it

it is a happy ending with the possible of a second season! [i really wish they would have a second season!]

now to my favourite part of all, haru x kirika! they met after 2 years, once again as rivals- haru freaking introduced himself as her fiance in a joking manner and kirika who was being cool played along with his jokes! their relationship did developed a little from here! i shall not tell you it further and shall be a surprise for you to unbox!

Read More

Surprisingly watchable — once you get past the rocky start.

I went into this movie not expecting much, and the beginning kind of confirmed that — chaotic monster fights, people shouting, no real context, and a truly terrible background score. But hey, the CGI? Surprisingly solid.

Then the story picks up. It gets intriguing, layered, and suddenly I cared.

Wang Duo, who was supposed to be a support character, totally stole the show. Not only was he in a main role, but he played two characters — and did it well. Honestly impressive.

Deng Lun’s character was emotionally complex, carrying a lot of emotional baggage, and his development was well-written.

The romance was tender, beautifully told, and thankfully no forced kiss scenes — which would’ve completely ruined the vibe.

On the flip side, I’ve never been a fan of Mark Chao, and unfortunately, I couldn’t connect with his character at all.

BUT… let’s be real. Half-naked Deng Lun and Wang Duo in a cat fight? Absolute gold. 🐍🔥 That alone made it worth the watch.

Oh, and the BGM? Still not great, but it graduated from “painful” to “passable.”

Read More

lead characters delightful, but the secret destroys that so things don't end well

I was really disappointed that while both main characters were delightful, the ending was not. It may be a culture difference.. My world view is that, hope is central to life and lying is selfish & wrong. Hence the reason why this is a bomb.
In a nutshell: girl has secret that will destroy the boy, and it pretty much does.
to explain I have to use spoilers
Guy does not want to fall in love & tried hard not to admit he has. He even tries to not encourage the girl. His father left he & his mother when he was a toddler & his mother had a nervous breakdown & now he has to take care of her.(They show him washing his naked mother!! EU!!! just wrong!!) He lives on a tiny island where people visit or come to train in the military, but no one stays as there is no real economy or much to do (that's modern). He does NOT want to be left again. Along comes a real nice girl, who takes a fancy to him & pursues his affections, knowing that he does not want to set himself up to get hurt (left). She convinces him to enter into a relationship with her by telling him that she is not unfaithful & will never be. Problem: she has lupus & is dying. She does not tell him ! That's selfish !! She is not supposed to go out in the sun as it makes her sicker, but she wants to be with him so much that she spends days out in the sun with him (she could have told him). SO eventually she gets worse, flies off without saying goodbye in person & then dies. Except her twin sister returns to the island pretending to be her dead sister, until he figures it out. She is no substitute for her sister to him, so he becomes a broken hearted faithful visitor to his dead girlfriend's grave. happy ending ? NO !

Read More