It's a question that is always worth asking, particularly in an environment like Chungmuro, where genre is often just a starting point, and not a rigid and unchanging blueprint to follow. What is it Korean Cinema wants from the horror genre? For decades, before 여고괴담 (Whispering Corridors) opened the gates of a new industry staple in 1998, horror was mostly a game based on strong thematic consciousness (often in the form of folk tales, or suggesting tried and true social mores, like evil mothers-in-law, or nefariously ambitious housemaids) and visceral thrills which had a rather significant cultural basis. That is perhaps the reason why horror never really found its footing in the annals of Korean cinema, as the genre trappings were always and only a catalyst to tell a story, and the thrills ended up becoming salad dressing. Even on TV, all you'd get was something like 전설의 고향 (Hometown of Legends), turning folk legends and famous historical anecdotes into the perfect launchpad for some hanbok-wearing thrills, complete with stoic closing comments by the narrator. What is more peculiar is the evolution (or regression, if you will) of the Korean horror canon in the last 11 years, particularly seen through the last two years' worth of output.
That catalyst mantra seems to have ruled supreme over the last decade as well, considering that ad-hoc nomenclature like "K-horror" never really amounted to anything but the result of misguided generalizations - not that grouping an entire country's genre output into that catchy "J-horror" punchline was any better. Sure enough, the first Whispering Corridors was inspired by 처녀귀신 (virgin ghost) tropes of yore such as those seen in Hometown of Legends. and older Japanese high school horror flicks, influencing a few other genre outings over the following years. Once the various Scream and I Know What You Did Last Summer clones started hitting Korean shores, the genre conveniently moved to teen slashers, with predictably horrendous results - remember abominations like 해변으로 가다 (Bloody Beach), 찍히면 죽는다 (Record) and 가위 (A Nightmare)? After the success of 장화, 홍련 (A Tale of Two Sisters) in 2003, a string of what has become known as 벽지 공포 (Wallpaper Horror) started assaulting domestic theaters, focusing more on lavish interiors and superior technical packages than the core narrative trappings of the genre they purported to "respect." But, really, horror in Korea was and still remains only a catalyst to achieve a certain goal, because there is pretty much no one going out there with the intention of making real horror films today.
Once the summer horror craze started hitting the country, the horror flick instantly became the quintessential project film: the cost was reasonable (2 to 4 billion won at most), you didn't necessarily need to resort to star casting, and this was the perfect platform for aspiring young directors to show their technical skills (in preparation for something bigger, obviously), not to mention a nice opportunity to discover some fresh talent. Think of the roster of promising actresses the Whispering Corridors franchise gave us over the last 10 years: Park Jin-Hee, Choi Kang-Hee and Yoon Ji-Hye on the first installment; Kim Min-Sun, Park Ye-Jin and Gong Hyo-Jin on the second, 여고괴담 두번째 이야기 (Memento Mori); 여우계단 (Wishing Stairs) had Song Ji-Hyo and Jo An, and finally Seo Ji-Hye and Kim Ok-Bin starred in the fourth, 목소리 (Voice). Still too early to say anything about the roster of the fifth and latest, the grotesquely inept 동방자살 (A Blood Pledge), but that's quite an achievement for what is not even a half dozen films. Yet, you'll find most of those films were directed by people who had no interest in horror, and had to somehow adapt to fundamental genre trappings to tell their story - particularly in Memento Mori's case. Widen the spectrum, and things don't really change that much.
A film like 알포인트 (R-Point) is still likely the best example of what horror means to the majority of Korean filmmakers: a visceral, emotional vessel leading to that final message (the guilt trips of Koreans vis-a-vis their participation in 'Nam, in this case), and not the leit motif dominating the entire narrative. That's the reason why the strongest entries in the genre are not really quintessential horror films, and often are drenched in psychological thriller tropes, like 소름 (Sorum) and 4인용 식탁 (The Uninvited). If anything has changed as of late, of course with negative connotations, is that the erosion of that brand image Korean horror films created in the mind of the average moviegoer has pretty much turned the genre into a mere cash cow, the incipit of shallow project films tossed out there with little purpose. Last year's surprise hit 고死 (Death Bell) is perhaps the best (or, well, worst) example of the industry's new slate towards horror: lots of cheap thrills, packaged in an enticing way (often by former Music Video directors), filled with young and pretty starlets, and devoid of any storytelling complex enough to suggest its target demographics' rampant ADD could possibly pose a problem. Yes, Death Bell managed to hit the jackpot by creating buzz and pestering the airwaves with its stars for weeks, but just about everything else which followed in its trail miserably failed, often showing disregard for the most basic rules of proper filmmaking. I wish I could say 요가학원 (Yoga) was at least the exception confirming the rule, but I'm afraid it's not quite the case.
It's worrying, even for people who have shown little affinity for the genre like myself, to see a film like this tank so miserably, because sitting on the director's chair wasn't a flashy newcomer getting shoved a project film down his throat and somewhat enduring the whole experience. Yoon Jae-Yeon was responsible for Wishing Stairs, which was not the second coming by any means, but it still was head and shoulders above most horror fare which is thrown at the wall these days. Her return to the horror canon for her sophomore effort suggests we're dealing with someone who didn't exactly despise the genre to begin with. And if you add the fact she's a woman, then you'd be inclined to think she might have a better understanding of the thematic consciousness (supposedly) pulsating at the core of this film. Plenty of recent works dealt with the concept of beauty and its often devastating impact on Korean society, such as Kim Ki-Duk's 시간 (Time) and last year's powerful 아름답다 (Beautiful), but when it's all said and done, such motive only feels like a cheap MacGuffin here.
The premise is not completely hopeless, actually. The idea of five characters exemplifying some of the most pressing complexes afflicting Korean women, gathering together at an exotic yoga academy to reach the ultimate state of inner and outer beauty (and then paying a hefty price for their "greed") is not half bad. Sure, yoga is not exactly the most realistic way of answering such a complex dilemma - so, what, if you reach that oh-so-alluring कुण्डलिनी (Kundalini, corporeal energy) state, all the problems suddenly vanish? - but if you press the right narrative buttons, it surely could work. The problems, alas, begin straight from the foundations: you more or less can imagine what led those characters there in the first place, and in certain cases we get vignettes, lines of dialogue and flashbacks suggesting such backgrounds. Hyo-Jung (Yoo Jin, or Eugene, if you prefer her S.E.S. moniker) is a veteran MC for a shopping network who lost her spot to a younger, allegedly prettier Miss Korea alumni; Yeon-Ju (Park Han-Byul) is a celebrity victim of controversies centered around her beauty, suggesting she only got where she is because of her pretty face (that sounds... strangely autobiographical); Yu-Gyeong (Kim Hye-Na) is afflicted by her botched nose surgery, and so on. Call them walking cardboard cutouts if you will, but those are pretty realistic concerns, and had the characters been used to help give more impact to the film's message (like the one-dimensional characters in Beautiful did), it could have worked.
But the whole castle of cards crumbles straight from the beginning, destroying any credibility the premise might have hoped for. You can't really sense any purpose behind the characters' decision to join such mysterious program: Hyo-Jung already possesses the kind of figure most women her age would envy, enough to make her newfound persona non grata status at work rather puzzling, and seeing the camera peep around Yoo Jin's chiseled body (all the cast went through intense yoga training, obviously) with slightly voyeuristic motions only reinforces the thought. Yes, we do get basic characterization which might fill a post-it, but the feeling is that these are soulless pawns thrown inside a glass sphere the viewers will peep at. The purpose is not the journey they'll take (even if it only means entering the sphere, finding out how horrible it is, and trying to escape alive), but what will happen inside, regardless of where such journey leads them. And that is, well, what do you think? Visceral thrills, slow motion pans of pretty women engaged in their vapid yoga shenanigans, and interior design which would have made the Earnes brothers proud. The superior production design by Lee Ha-Joon - of 미인도 (Portrait of a Beauty), 궁녀 (Shadows in the Palace) and 하류인생 (The Raging Years) - really deserves a better film, and cinematography is quite passable as well.
What is interesting is that the film is at its most effective when dealing with flashbacks (centered around the mysterious disappearance of a famous actress in the 70s) which until the big denouement are only tangentially related to the main story. It's like getting a cheap project film intertwined with what looks to be a much more intriguing story - it deals with Chungmuro starlets of the 70s falling out of the favor when live recording is introduced, revealing beauty is all they had working for them, which is a matter costing many an actress their career back then. Lee Hye-Sang, who only had sporadic forays into TV and film acting in between her countless CF and print ads, looks a million bucks, almost like a diva from a golden age Hollywood flick, not to mention what surrounds her. So, yes, Yoga is indeed a pretty film, and the beauty doesn't stop with the actresses. But when everything else is so putrid, then you get tired of that shallow glitz pretty fast.
Considering the material they're working with, the cast does a rather passable job. Yoo Jin has been acting since 2002 and still there's very little suggesting she gave up her day job for anything other than money (the big money music business is notoriously dead in Korea, hence the onslaught of singer-turned-actors), but other than a rather terrible first quarter hour in which she shows her limitations, she increasingly improves, and somewhat delivers the goods when things get a bit more horror-oriented. Cha Su-Yeon, one of the most talented young actresses in Korea, is forced to mutter platitudes from beginning to end, but she oozes an irresistible aura which somehow makes that Yanni-fied lingo bearable, and Jo Eun-Ji is her usual reliable self. But that is where it ends, really. Even those looking for cheap, visceral thrills will not find any, and those looking for at least a modicum of thematic consciousness (as cliched as "obsessing over beauty can kill you" can be) will go home with very little in their hands.
So what was the purpose of this film, really, if not pairing together a bunch of pretty faces (some of whom do have talent, admittedly), suggesting the possibility of cheap thrills to what is an increasingly undemanding average Korean moviegoer? It's the curse of the summer project film repeating itself. What do you call something with dozens of pretty legs and an alluring body, but without a single brain cell? And no, yoga is not going to give you the answer....
RATING: 4
요가학원 (Yoga)
Director: 윤재연 (Yoon Jae-Yeon)
Screenplay: 윤재연 (Yoon Jae-Yeon)
D.P.: 성승택 (Sung Seung-Taek)
Music: 최승현 (Choi Seung-Hyeon)
Produced by: Opus Pictures
95 Minutes, 35mm Color
Release: 08/20/2009 (15 and Over)
CAST: 유진 (Yoo Jin), 차수연 (Cha Su-Yeon), 박한별 (Park Han-Byul), 조은지 (Jo Eun-Ji), 김혜나 (Kim Hye-Na), 황승언 (Hwang Seung-Eon), 이혜상 (Lee Hye-Sang), 이영진 (Lee Young-Jin), 최다니엘 (Choi Daniel)
That catalyst mantra seems to have ruled supreme over the last decade as well, considering that ad-hoc nomenclature like "K-horror" never really amounted to anything but the result of misguided generalizations - not that grouping an entire country's genre output into that catchy "J-horror" punchline was any better. Sure enough, the first Whispering Corridors was inspired by 처녀귀신 (virgin ghost) tropes of yore such as those seen in Hometown of Legends. and older Japanese high school horror flicks, influencing a few other genre outings over the following years. Once the various Scream and I Know What You Did Last Summer clones started hitting Korean shores, the genre conveniently moved to teen slashers, with predictably horrendous results - remember abominations like 해변으로 가다 (Bloody Beach), 찍히면 죽는다 (Record) and 가위 (A Nightmare)? After the success of 장화, 홍련 (A Tale of Two Sisters) in 2003, a string of what has become known as 벽지 공포 (Wallpaper Horror) started assaulting domestic theaters, focusing more on lavish interiors and superior technical packages than the core narrative trappings of the genre they purported to "respect." But, really, horror in Korea was and still remains only a catalyst to achieve a certain goal, because there is pretty much no one going out there with the intention of making real horror films today.
Once the summer horror craze started hitting the country, the horror flick instantly became the quintessential project film: the cost was reasonable (2 to 4 billion won at most), you didn't necessarily need to resort to star casting, and this was the perfect platform for aspiring young directors to show their technical skills (in preparation for something bigger, obviously), not to mention a nice opportunity to discover some fresh talent. Think of the roster of promising actresses the Whispering Corridors franchise gave us over the last 10 years: Park Jin-Hee, Choi Kang-Hee and Yoon Ji-Hye on the first installment; Kim Min-Sun, Park Ye-Jin and Gong Hyo-Jin on the second, 여고괴담 두번째 이야기 (Memento Mori); 여우계단 (Wishing Stairs) had Song Ji-Hyo and Jo An, and finally Seo Ji-Hye and Kim Ok-Bin starred in the fourth, 목소리 (Voice). Still too early to say anything about the roster of the fifth and latest, the grotesquely inept 동방자살 (A Blood Pledge), but that's quite an achievement for what is not even a half dozen films. Yet, you'll find most of those films were directed by people who had no interest in horror, and had to somehow adapt to fundamental genre trappings to tell their story - particularly in Memento Mori's case. Widen the spectrum, and things don't really change that much.
A film like 알포인트 (R-Point) is still likely the best example of what horror means to the majority of Korean filmmakers: a visceral, emotional vessel leading to that final message (the guilt trips of Koreans vis-a-vis their participation in 'Nam, in this case), and not the leit motif dominating the entire narrative. That's the reason why the strongest entries in the genre are not really quintessential horror films, and often are drenched in psychological thriller tropes, like 소름 (Sorum) and 4인용 식탁 (The Uninvited). If anything has changed as of late, of course with negative connotations, is that the erosion of that brand image Korean horror films created in the mind of the average moviegoer has pretty much turned the genre into a mere cash cow, the incipit of shallow project films tossed out there with little purpose. Last year's surprise hit 고死 (Death Bell) is perhaps the best (or, well, worst) example of the industry's new slate towards horror: lots of cheap thrills, packaged in an enticing way (often by former Music Video directors), filled with young and pretty starlets, and devoid of any storytelling complex enough to suggest its target demographics' rampant ADD could possibly pose a problem. Yes, Death Bell managed to hit the jackpot by creating buzz and pestering the airwaves with its stars for weeks, but just about everything else which followed in its trail miserably failed, often showing disregard for the most basic rules of proper filmmaking. I wish I could say 요가학원 (Yoga) was at least the exception confirming the rule, but I'm afraid it's not quite the case.
It's worrying, even for people who have shown little affinity for the genre like myself, to see a film like this tank so miserably, because sitting on the director's chair wasn't a flashy newcomer getting shoved a project film down his throat and somewhat enduring the whole experience. Yoon Jae-Yeon was responsible for Wishing Stairs, which was not the second coming by any means, but it still was head and shoulders above most horror fare which is thrown at the wall these days. Her return to the horror canon for her sophomore effort suggests we're dealing with someone who didn't exactly despise the genre to begin with. And if you add the fact she's a woman, then you'd be inclined to think she might have a better understanding of the thematic consciousness (supposedly) pulsating at the core of this film. Plenty of recent works dealt with the concept of beauty and its often devastating impact on Korean society, such as Kim Ki-Duk's 시간 (Time) and last year's powerful 아름답다 (Beautiful), but when it's all said and done, such motive only feels like a cheap MacGuffin here.
The premise is not completely hopeless, actually. The idea of five characters exemplifying some of the most pressing complexes afflicting Korean women, gathering together at an exotic yoga academy to reach the ultimate state of inner and outer beauty (and then paying a hefty price for their "greed") is not half bad. Sure, yoga is not exactly the most realistic way of answering such a complex dilemma - so, what, if you reach that oh-so-alluring कुण्डलिनी (Kundalini, corporeal energy) state, all the problems suddenly vanish? - but if you press the right narrative buttons, it surely could work. The problems, alas, begin straight from the foundations: you more or less can imagine what led those characters there in the first place, and in certain cases we get vignettes, lines of dialogue and flashbacks suggesting such backgrounds. Hyo-Jung (Yoo Jin, or Eugene, if you prefer her S.E.S. moniker) is a veteran MC for a shopping network who lost her spot to a younger, allegedly prettier Miss Korea alumni; Yeon-Ju (Park Han-Byul) is a celebrity victim of controversies centered around her beauty, suggesting she only got where she is because of her pretty face (that sounds... strangely autobiographical); Yu-Gyeong (Kim Hye-Na) is afflicted by her botched nose surgery, and so on. Call them walking cardboard cutouts if you will, but those are pretty realistic concerns, and had the characters been used to help give more impact to the film's message (like the one-dimensional characters in Beautiful did), it could have worked.
But the whole castle of cards crumbles straight from the beginning, destroying any credibility the premise might have hoped for. You can't really sense any purpose behind the characters' decision to join such mysterious program: Hyo-Jung already possesses the kind of figure most women her age would envy, enough to make her newfound persona non grata status at work rather puzzling, and seeing the camera peep around Yoo Jin's chiseled body (all the cast went through intense yoga training, obviously) with slightly voyeuristic motions only reinforces the thought. Yes, we do get basic characterization which might fill a post-it, but the feeling is that these are soulless pawns thrown inside a glass sphere the viewers will peep at. The purpose is not the journey they'll take (even if it only means entering the sphere, finding out how horrible it is, and trying to escape alive), but what will happen inside, regardless of where such journey leads them. And that is, well, what do you think? Visceral thrills, slow motion pans of pretty women engaged in their vapid yoga shenanigans, and interior design which would have made the Earnes brothers proud. The superior production design by Lee Ha-Joon - of 미인도 (Portrait of a Beauty), 궁녀 (Shadows in the Palace) and 하류인생 (The Raging Years) - really deserves a better film, and cinematography is quite passable as well.
What is interesting is that the film is at its most effective when dealing with flashbacks (centered around the mysterious disappearance of a famous actress in the 70s) which until the big denouement are only tangentially related to the main story. It's like getting a cheap project film intertwined with what looks to be a much more intriguing story - it deals with Chungmuro starlets of the 70s falling out of the favor when live recording is introduced, revealing beauty is all they had working for them, which is a matter costing many an actress their career back then. Lee Hye-Sang, who only had sporadic forays into TV and film acting in between her countless CF and print ads, looks a million bucks, almost like a diva from a golden age Hollywood flick, not to mention what surrounds her. So, yes, Yoga is indeed a pretty film, and the beauty doesn't stop with the actresses. But when everything else is so putrid, then you get tired of that shallow glitz pretty fast.
Considering the material they're working with, the cast does a rather passable job. Yoo Jin has been acting since 2002 and still there's very little suggesting she gave up her day job for anything other than money (the big money music business is notoriously dead in Korea, hence the onslaught of singer-turned-actors), but other than a rather terrible first quarter hour in which she shows her limitations, she increasingly improves, and somewhat delivers the goods when things get a bit more horror-oriented. Cha Su-Yeon, one of the most talented young actresses in Korea, is forced to mutter platitudes from beginning to end, but she oozes an irresistible aura which somehow makes that Yanni-fied lingo bearable, and Jo Eun-Ji is her usual reliable self. But that is where it ends, really. Even those looking for cheap, visceral thrills will not find any, and those looking for at least a modicum of thematic consciousness (as cliched as "obsessing over beauty can kill you" can be) will go home with very little in their hands.
So what was the purpose of this film, really, if not pairing together a bunch of pretty faces (some of whom do have talent, admittedly), suggesting the possibility of cheap thrills to what is an increasingly undemanding average Korean moviegoer? It's the curse of the summer project film repeating itself. What do you call something with dozens of pretty legs and an alluring body, but without a single brain cell? And no, yoga is not going to give you the answer....
RATING: 4
요가학원 (Yoga)
Director: 윤재연 (Yoon Jae-Yeon)
Screenplay: 윤재연 (Yoon Jae-Yeon)
D.P.: 성승택 (Sung Seung-Taek)
Music: 최승현 (Choi Seung-Hyeon)
Produced by: Opus Pictures
95 Minutes, 35mm Color
Release: 08/20/2009 (15 and Over)
CAST: 유진 (Yoo Jin), 차수연 (Cha Su-Yeon), 박한별 (Park Han-Byul), 조은지 (Jo Eun-Ji), 김혜나 (Kim Hye-Na), 황승언 (Hwang Seung-Eon), 이혜상 (Lee Hye-Sang), 이영진 (Lee Young-Jin), 최다니엘 (Choi Daniel)
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