Call: Redial at Your Own Risk

I was honestly hoping that this K-horror flick was going to be a Korean remake of The Caller, an American film in which a landline telephone links a contemporary young woman (Park Shin-hye, this time) to another girl (Jun Jong-seo) the same age but in the past. Then, while watching this 2020 Netflix release, I kind of wished it were more of a thriller like The Call, the Halle Berry vehicle about a 911 operator with PTSD issues. But Lee Chung-hyun's Call is definitely indebted more to the former — a supernatural movie about two young women with a disastrous telephonic connection stretching over a decade.

When these two realize that their relationship can alter the future, one major good thing happens followed by one terrible thing after another. Should we be surprised? In what universe does messing with history not lead to disaster? Yet the temptation to make minor adjustments is so great, can any of us really resist? My question became, however, if time isn't linear then is there a way for the person in the future to impact the past of the one in the past? And could the person in the future's present be constantly in flux without impacting their memory like a variation of Groundhog Day? But there are no wedding bells at the end of Call because the butterfly effect sounds a death knoll when it's controlled by a sociopath. Do not pick up. Send directly to messages.

Heart Blackened: One Rich Thriller

My problem with prenuptial agreements is that the person marrying into money is as a rule a less corrupt person than the person who's already loaded. Sure, that fiance or fiancee may be a gold-digger but those who occupy the top 1% of the economic food-chain are infinitely more likely to be delusional narcissists who believe their wealth accords them a certain prerogative when it comes to... oh, pretty much anything. Absolute power may corrupt absolutely but plenty of money corrupts plenty too. You can see just how much in Jung Ji-woo's Heart Blackened, a well-executed thriller/courtroom-drama in which a CEO (the ever-dependable Choi Min-sik) goes to extreme lengths to defend his amoral daughter (Lee Soo-kyung) in a murder case that's left him a widower again. Did his wife (Lee Ha-ni) cheat on him? Yes! Is he glad she's dead? No. Truly, the only thing that bothers him is when he can't get his way.

He's got plenty of foils: a fiery prosecutor (Park Hae-joon) who can't be bought, his wife's videographer lover (Ryu Jun-Yeol) who seemingly can't be bought, and a dogged defense attorney (Park Shin-hye) who can be bought but maybe not trusted. Well, the world is a buyer's market so this tough tycoon is going to use all of his resources to get what he wants — not once, but twice. He'll lose some things along the way — whatever happened to that diamond-encrusted watch? — but you're left with little doubt that if he himself lands in prison garb for any stretch of time, he'll be back in a bespoke three-piece suit off Savile Row before you can say "The justice system should treat all people equally" three times in a row. Naturally, the same can be said about his daughter, although her fashion choices would be more adventurous.

P.S. The original Korean-language title of Heart Blackened is Silence, so this particular bit of translation is strange to say the least.

Miracle in Cell No. 7: Girl Behind Bars

Given the heartbreakingly inhumane, government-sanctioned acts currently occurring on the international border between Mexico and the US where asylum-seeking parents are being separated from their children and then interned in concentration camps with no clear plan on how to reunite them, this comedy about a mentally challenged man (Ryu Seung-ryong) — imprisoned for a murder and rape that he did not commit — whose daughter (Kal So Won) comes to stay with him in prison makes for incredibly weird viewing. I mean, even in Miracle in Cell No. 7 the authorities eventually come around to figuring out a way to bring the daughter and the father together, rules be damned, for heaven's sake. Evidently, "truth is stranger than fiction" is one of those cliches that keeps on giving.

Is there any comfort in knowing that police corruption and brutality are things in South Korea as well as the United States? That people are framed, forced to sign confessions they didn't write, sentenced to death without due process only to have their reputations righted posthumously in a mock trial at which everyone sobs? To be honest: The joys are few. And writer-director Lee Hwan-kyung's Miracle in Cell No. 7 is one of those movies with so many holes in it that you're hardly watching it thinking "How could this bleak reality happen?" Gritty this is not. But through your tears, and yes there are many to be shed, you will be thinking "Oh, I hope that hot air balloon they've constructed behind bars liberates the doomed duo from this prison" and "Wouldn't it be great if the head thug (Oh Dal-su) not only learned how to read but eventually became the lead attorney for our poor, unfortunate hero."

Alas, such victories are not meant to be. A well-meaning teacher (Park Shin-hye) and an enlightened prison staff (Jung Jin-yeong) are unable to defeat the cruel wheels of injustice or to prevent those wheels from crushing a man who simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You can blame this all on a stupid Sailor Moon backpack really. Never promise a child a trendy gift you cannot afford. Nothing good will come of it. Nothing!

The Royal Tailor: Sew, Sew Good

The Royal Tailor has made one thing incredibly clear. The difference between North Korean movies and South Korean ones is vast, something akin to the qualitative distances between the comedies of Jerry Lewis and those of Billy Wilder. Or better yet, between the dramas of Ed Wood and Martin Scorsese. So different are the standards by which they can be judged, never mind the standards they establish and uphold that they're impossible to compare seriously side by side. Who in their right mind would say that Cinderfella and Plan Nine From Outer Space are on par with The Apartment and Taxi Driver? And while both Lewis and Wood may have their advocates (and I am among them!), the pleasures they afford are trifling when compared to the true geniuses of cinema. This became quite clear to me after watching Lee Wonsuk's The Royal Tailor, an exquisite historic drama made in South Korea that not only looks 100 times better than any film I've ever seen from their Northern neighbors but is also peopled by characters with complex motives and speaks to the human condition outside of some didactic party line. Agit-prop art this definitely is not.

Not that politics don't come into play. A nasty if nattily attired movie of court intrigue, The Royal Tailor is all about politics — from the petulant king (Yoo Yeon-seok) who's inherited both the throne and his wife (Park Shin-hye) from his late older brother to the conflicted official court tailor (Han Suk-kyu) who finds his position suddenly threatened by an inspired, upstart iconoclast and trendsetter (Go Soo) who has an artist's sensibilities when it comes to design and a pragmatic understanding when it comes to function. He might not be as committed to tradition and craftsmanship as his elder but everyone wants to wear his work. Given the central plot literally swirls around fashion, you can bet your bottom dollar that The Royal Tailor is a feast for the eyes: richly colored fabrics, exquisite embroidery, snazzy haberdashery, even underwear stitchery are fully on display so that come the climax, you'll have developed a discerning enough eye to recognize that the violet-colored garb and headpiece worn by the royal concubine (Lee Yoo-bi) are more garish than gorgeous. You can't fake fashion, especially once the Queen has arrived.

Cyrano Agency: The Act of Love

Since movies and TV shows often inundate us with preposterously poignant courtships culminating in impossibly eloquent professions of love, is it that far-fetched to imagine a future where matchmaking agencies are consulted to "script" your first encounter, your subsequent dates, and your wedding proposal? Bolstered by a sublimely humorous script and warmly amusing performances, writer-director Kim Hyun-seok's Cyrano Agency is at once an endearing send-up of the crappy faux reality romances we're spoon-fed across all the various mediums, and a big-hearted rom-com that knows that intentions, not well-crafted monologues or fairy dust, are the greater indicator that someone is guided by his or her fast-beating heart.

So don't let the cynical machinations of the matchmaking agency get in your way of seeing that this is a movie all about true romantics, and that these true romantics are both inside and outside the agency: There's Byeong-hoon (Eom Tae-woong), the agency director who employs stage magic into the art of seduction; Sang-yong (Choi Daniel), the lovelorn hedge fund guy, who wants to be a knight in shining armor; Min-Yeong (Park Shin-hye), the agency's second-in-command who's crushing on her boss big time; and Hee-joong (Lee Min-jung), the boss's ex- who happens to be their current client's dream-girl. Even Hee-joong's cynical sidekick appears to be a softie at the core, once you've plied her with a few glasses of red wine.

To say that I cried a few times during Cyrano Agency doesn't say much since I sometimes cry at the sappiest of movies. To say that I laughed more than a few times says more, but not a ton, is also faint praise, since my laugh of condescension gets just as much use as my laugh of joy. But to say that I feel this movie is really, really smart is higher praise. My brain is less often stimulated than my tear ducts or funny bone by movies. And when I'm stimulated in all areas, well that's kinda hot.

The Evil Twin: A Washed Up Horror Movie

After nearly drowning as a child, So-yeon (Park Shin-hye) is rescued by her mom then has a really good nap -- which some might call a coma since it lasted ten years. But everyone treats it like she's just had a long rest. No one's particularly shocked that she's awakened after a decade. She herself, aside from some amnesia -- which some suspect is feigned -- doesn't appear to be lagging behind her peers. She can walk and talk with the best of them and if anything, her embroidery skills have improved. She's just a pretty young thing whose expressionless face can be attributed to years of rest. And consider what a nice surprise she's awakened to. The young boy to whom she'd been betrothed has grown up to be a handsome man (Lee Hyun-kyoon). You could call him the man of her dreams except she's not sleeping anymore. And when she does, she has the worst nightmares.

You see, while So-yeon survived drowning all those years ago, her twin sister Hyo-jin wasn't half so lucky. As per usual in horror films, sibling rivalry continues beyond the grave as dead Hyo-jin sabotages her revived sister's engagement, her relationship with their mom, and her reputation at large with the community. Everyone hates/fears the revivified So-yeon because locals have been dying unexpectedly ever since her resurrection. Naturally, no one is going to finger the corpse as the culprit, especially one hiding behind three feet of filthy black hair. (While scientists claim hair can grow a couple inches after death, K-horror and J-horror flicks alike suggest it grows as much as two feet.)

Be it posthumous hair growth or post-traumatic stress disorder, nobody seriously considers cause and effect in The Evil Twin. In a way, writer-director Kim Ji-hwan is aligning himself with the dimwitted family servant who preens in the handheld mirror gifted to her by her mistress and who likes to hang outside to heat her ass over a bonfire. Looking at your own reflection. Warming your bum. Could anyone ask for a better life? Yes, they could. And they should start by requesting much better horror movies.