
The pursuit of truth is laudable. That might not sound profound but when you consider how many people hide behind lies (white and otherwise), you realize precisely how exceptional such an objective can be. Which is why movies about indefatigable reporters committed to bucking the system and getting the facts can be so gosh-darn-tootin' exhilarating. Movies like Park In-je's Moby Dick. This 2011 thriller about three resourceful newspaper journalists a veteran (Hwang Jung-min), a recent hire (Kim Sang-ho), and an up-and-comer (Kim Min-hee) had me on the edge of my seat as the film's central trio got embroiled in its search for the members of the shadow government that killed off people in the name of profit.
As films based on conspiracy theories go, Moby Dick isn't breaking new ground. And with Kim Kyeong-yeong phoning in a typical baddie performance, the film's main threat can feel like a cliche. But the camaraderie of the central newshounds is real; the excitement they generate by getting closer to cracking the case will keep you up past your bedtime. Who cares that what they reveal feels implausible? Or that their main informant (Jin Goo) i a pretty-faced zombie. Okay, I cared a little. Just not enough to spoil the movie though.





The 1960s are the decade in which movies swung from predominantly black-and-white to color, with Korean auteur Yoo Hyun-mok making the jump somewhat late himself around '67 with The Guest Who Came on the Last Train. I'm glad he dragged his feet. For Yoo was a director who truly understood how to maximize light, shadow, and depth in a monochromatic world. His films really feel like moving pictures. He uses doorways to frame action, positions actors for portraiture, embraces the odd angle as a way to reorient us. Repeatedly in The Daughters of Kim's Pharmacy, he makes the most out of the setting whether it's a dockside or a hilltop, a bamboo forest or a barren hill.
Yoo's artistry and that of cinematographer Byeon In-jib who collaborated with him on Forever With You, Freely Given,and The Sun Rises Again elevates this melodrama to art. This tale of four siblings cursed by an ancestor's suicide teeters on the allegorical and it's no coincidence that the family matriarch (Hwang Jeong-sun) searches for help from a shaman when her seaside life sinks into misery. "I am breathing so I have no choice but to live," she remarks matter-of-factly. I can relate. I can even forgive the second eldest daughter for feeling optimistic about marrying a strange man fresh out of prison. The unexpected can be so much more appealing than the predictable when life totally sucks.

