Harbin: Revolutionary Movies

As the U.S. government slides towards white-supremacist, patriarchal fascism, Hollywood is not exactly taking up the call to arms with escapist fare like The Devil Wears Prada 2 and the new Michael Jackson biopic. Which is why we'd do well to turn towards Korea for movies like Woo Min-ho's Harbin, a 2024 release that glorifies the resistance movement that followed Japanese occupation in the early part of the 20th century. This is no hagiography, however. The rebel leader (Hyun Bin) disastrously lets the enemy free without weapons so children won't die fatherless when his Japanese counterpart (Park Hoon) would have gladly killed himself to save face. Poor decisions lead to mass collateral damage and a basement of peers are eager to take on the parts of judge and jury.

How do you defend stupid actions in a war? You often can't. What can you do to make things right? Revenge, assassinate, self-sacrifice, the usual. Although Harbin is very much a movie about leaders pitted against each other within and without the resistance movement, this movie equally belongs to its supporting characters: Gong Boo-in (Jeon Yeo-been), Russian translator and dynamite resource; Kim Sang Hyun (Jo Woo-jin), bespectacled, former POW with PTSD issues; Woo Deok-soon (Park Jeong-min), the pragmatic soldier who just wants a drink; and Park Jeom-cheol (Jung Woo-sung), the one-eyed, furcoat model and munitions dealer. Perhaps the underlying message here is that sometimes a group has to pitch in to remedy a mess made by higher-ups; and that being a traitor never works in your favor. As one character puts it, "If Japan writes history, no one will remember us." Then another rejoins, "When you're dead, you're dead." You might as well be true to yourself while you can. Because "we live in place of our dead comrades." Always true. "Korea! Ura!"

Humint: Human Intelligence Vs. Meth and Sex-Trafficking

"If you open fire, there's no turning back."

That's the kind of statement that would immediately be followed by gunshots in an American movie but in the Korean pic Humint, Manager Zo (Zo In-sung) opts to follow orders by turning his pistol into a bludgeon so he can singlehandedly take out a gang of thugs while also rescuing drug-addicted sex slave Soo-rin (Joo Bo-bi). But has he actually saved her from the jaws of death? Hint: Pretty early on, Ryoo Seung-wan's crime flick refuses to adhere to the standard formula. Even the setting for this human-trafficking and meth-dealing thriller is out there: Russia's Vladivostok.

It's also got two dueling heroes instead of one: The other is North Korean operative Park Geon (Park Jeong-min) who's getting into all kind of trouble for his double agent girl Seon-hwa (Shin Sae-kyeong). Their most visible enemy is franky iconic: a bleached blond Russian pimp (Robert Maaser) who wears a fabulous striped fur coat and keeps his captured women in bulletproof glass cases on wheels. This movie excels whenever it kicks into action mode, whether its martial arts or gunfire. But initially there are too many long stretches without punches, bullets or car chases. That one fight involving Agent Im (Jeong Eu-gene) and Park slamming into the railings of a multi-level staircase is worth the price of admission alone...or in this case, Netflix streaming. The prolonged final shootout is killer, too!

Uprising: Directorial Signatures

Park Chan-wook co-wrote Uprising and there are times when you can definitely feel his signature touch on this historical epic of class rebellion: the sadistic whippings of a young boy's calves, the repeated motif of a knife piercing a hand, the final bloody duel in an engulfing fog — a swordfight that involves three men, not two. But Uprising is actually a Kim Sang-man movie which means if you're hoping for the intricate and delirious perversity that inhabits so many of Park's film, you're going to be a little bit disappointed. In truth, I found Uprising sometimes confusing for whereas Park always manages to juggle multiple storylines effortlessly, Kim's interweaving of tales had me repeatedly having to resituate myself as to whether I were in the present or the past.

The central story is compelling, however. Two childhood friends — one a mid-ranking nobleman (Park Jeong-min / Jin Jae-hee), one a slave (Gang Dong-won / Lee Yoon-sang) — are unable to truly meet as equals in a society ruled by an insensitive king (an especially effective Cha Seung-won), despite the BFFs repeated attempts to do so. Instead, they're often pitted against each other even when a common enemy emerges: the nose-hacking Japanese general (Jung Sung-il) whose Joseon-era brutality is like a harbinger of the 20th-century horrors to come. The final resolution isn't a predictable one. Which I credit to Park who's always full of surprises.

The Artist: Reborn: The Painting, Reframed

No one's about to say that the creator of The Artist: Reborn doesn't have something to say. Kim Kyoung-won's dark comedy about a painter who skyrockets to fame after her supposed death is peppered with wry commentary about the art market, the creative process, and good old amoral capitalism. But, as the writer-director himself states, "It's like Frankenstein without the monster part." What's the missing monster exactly? Is it the art? Could be. The oils depicting floating mandalas and simpler geometric shapes are too minimal for Kandinsky, too muted for Hilma af Klimt. Is it the script? Also possible. Yet Kim's writerly shark jumps are intentionally outlandish: the artist's resurrection in the morgue is pure sight gag; the marketspeak of her fabricated backstory is satirical grotesquerie. ("Let's say she was raped by a priest!")

What's that leave us? The cast? Okay. So if so, who? Ryu Hyeon-kyeong's turn as the visionary abstractionist is out of sync with the other performers... as she should be; Park Jeong-min is overly earnest ...which seems appropriate, too. Lee Soon-jae and Moon Jong-won may be broader in their interpreations of a cultural minister and a cultural pariah but can you blame them? For me, it was as if nothing quite worked and nothing quite failed. "Nothing's wrong," the artist states near the end. I'd add, "Nothing's right either." But what are you looking for? Perfection?