A list with all the Asian films in this year's edition of Art Film Feest Kosice
The Wailing (Na Hong-jin, 2016, S. Korea)
A sleepy little town is shaken up by a violent murder. More follow, each victim showing the same signs: catatonia and an unidentifiable, pervasive skin infection. Could these frightful events be somehow connected to the mysterious foreigner recently seen in the mountains near town? The police are at their wits’ end… The Wailing is a major work of our time, fully deserving the high acclaim it drew at Cannes last year. Brilliantly directed and acted, joining multiple genres into a cohesive whole, the film’s themes offer a wide range of interpretations and statements on the world today. The theme of foreigneras- enemy, for example, someone who brings uncertainty and physical danger to a community, is equally applicable to Europe’s so-called refugee crisis. With regard to South Korea, The Wailing also offers a topical treatment of shamanism, or occultism, as well as a critique of the current regime. The film even serves as a commentary on last year’s scandal involving South Korea’s ex-president.
Sexy Durga (Sanal Kumar Sasidharan, 2017, India)
This unusual road movie follows two lovers on a journey through the South Indian province of Kerala. One night, Kabeer and Durga try to hitchhike to the railway station, meeting various odd characters along the way. The film was shot in an improvised fashion, and it is nearly, if not completely plotless. And that’s the point. It’s just one night’s journey from point A to point B, but then suddenly you’re in thrall to a narrative completely divorced from traditional storytelling, and you’ve joined a troupe of non-actors, who convincingly expand on various situations. All this against the backdrop of traditional rituals, depicted in interminably long, yet purposeful, captivating and beautiful shots, contrasting with modern India’s young metalheads. In this case, naturalism, formal authenticity and a distinctive approach to narrative make for an outstanding film. Earlier this year, Sexy Durga won the prestigious grand prize at the 2017 Rotterdam IFF.
Apocalypse Child (Mario Cornejo, 2015, Philippines)
You can read all about the film here
A Quiet Dream (Zhang Lu, S.Korea, 2016)
A Quiet Dream is a beautiful, charming portrait of three young people, shot on black-and-white film. This indie comedy, or rather tragicomedy, is a faithful homage to Jim Jarmusch’s early work. A local gangster, an epileptic and a polite, introverted North Korean refugee wander around Susaek, a sad, grungy, desolate neighbourhood on the outskirts of Seoul. Every day they head to the same bar, run by the beautiful Jeri from China. And all three are in love with her. Various other characters enter the mix, who, while minor, are fascinating and watchable in their own right. Time slowly passes, and Jeri doesn’t choose among her three suitors. She doesn’t seem to prefer any one over the others. Maybe she doesn’t care for any of them; maybe she likes all three. The languorous mood, carousing and minor adventures lend authenticity to the delightful foursome, even as their situation begins to change towards the end.
Duckweed (Han Han, 2017, China)
When Lang, freshly crowned champion of the national rally, crashes his car along with his estranged father, he is suddenly transported 24 years back to Shanghai circa 1998. He meets, of all people, his father, and joins his band of wannabe gangsters, a crew with a fondness for John Woo and Chow Yun Fat, an enterprising plan and a passion for doing the right thing. But the main question is, will father and son be reconciled? And what about the time-slip they’ve found themselves in? Is there any way back? Duckweed is a nostalgic look back at how brilliant it was to pretend to be cult-film heroes, with an invigorating tempo, unforced dialogue and apt one-liners. An eye for detail rounds things out – Duckweed is stylized to look like a film from around 2000, appealing to the growing nostalgia for the golden age of Hong Kong cinema among young Chinese and even in Hong Kong itself. Far from taking itself seriously, this treat is served up with a light, humorous touch. Starring Eddie Peng (The Last Women Standing, Unbeatable).
The Woman Who Left (Lav Diaz, 2016, Philippines)
In 1997, after 30 years in prison, Horácia returns to a completely unfamiliar world: her husband is dead, and while she is able to contact her daughter, her son is nowhere to be found. But what hasn’t changed, she soon finds out, is the power and privilege of the elites. Ironically, however, Horácia’s aristocratic ex-lover Rodrigo, who had her sent to jail, is now himself a prisoner in his own gilded cage: like his affluent friends, he won’t leave the house for fear of a rise in kidnappings of the wealthy. Horácia decides to make use of this hysteria to plot her revenge. Lone-wolf filmmaker Lav Diaz returns to Filipino history with an exhaustive, clinical accuracy, revealing the dark currents that continue to shape his country. The Woman Who Left is a penetrating study of the gaps between the rich and the poor, between the past and the present – in the subtlest of gestures, Diaz captures the entrenched histories of institutional privilege, complicity and arrogance that have contributed to the vast disparities in present-day Filipino society. Its cinematic virtuosity and thoughtfully articulated “quiet rage” make Diaz’s latest one of his best and most compassionate films.
Mad World (Chun Wong, 2016, Hong Kong)
You can read all about the film here
Pop Aye (Kristen Tan, 2017, Singapore, Thailand)
Despite his successful career and happy marriage, reputable architect Thana is going through a midlife crisis. On the streets of Bangkok one day, he comes across an elephant who reminds him of his childhood in his native village. The two lost souls set out on a slow-paced journey through the Thai countryside, having all sorts of bizarre encounters along the way. A vagrant at a filling station looking for his first love. A lonely karaoke singer longing for friendship. The series of banal situations doesn’t hold up the conspicuous twosome; if anything, it only serves to subconsciously goad them on their way. Pop Aye is an ode to ordinary acts of kindness in a cynical world of lost innocence and missed opportunities, punctuated by well-timed moments of absurdity. This lyrical road-movie dramedy is a moving, entertaining and visually stunning portrayal of the journey of a man and an elephant.
The Whispering Star (Sion Sono, 2015, Japan)
Sion Sono is known for his bizarre flights of fancy, radical audiovisual style and blending of various genres. But The Whispering Star finds the director working in a different mode, a side he shows very rarely and completely distinct from the bulk of his work. What’s more, in the words of Sono himself, this is one of his most personal stories, one he wrote over 25 years ago, replacing his signature unhinged savagery with gentle, understated humour and lyrical contemplation. Set in an unspecified post-apocalyptic age where the Earth is no more, The Whispering Star is the story of an android who personally delivers parcels to people scattered across the universe. Her journeys are depicted in gorgeous black-andwhite shots, highlighting the wealth of little details onscreen. Like many filmmakers before him, Sono utilizes the futuristic, sci-fi setting to remark on today’s world, warts and all; for example, parts of the film were shot in Fukushima Prefecture, struck by nuclear disaster in 2011.
The Net (Kim Ki-duk, 2016, S.Korea)
When his motorboat breaks down, a poor North Korean fisherman unintentionally drifts into South Korean waters, where he is promptly arrested and interrogated as a potential enemy agent. Once he proves his identity, he is offered asylum, which he proudly refuses, recognizing that economic development is no guarantee of happiness. Upon his return home, a similarly torturous interrogation awaits him. To his deep distress, he realizes that he is mired in the ideological double bind of a country divided. “Through a fisherman who suffers going to South Korea and back to North Korea in a broken-down boat, we see how we are sacrificed by the divided Korean Peninsula. And how the division creates great sadness.” (Kim Ki-duk)
Train to Busan (Yeon Sang-ho, 2016, S. Korea)
A divorced workaholic yields to his daughter’s wishes and takes her on a train to Busan to see her mother. On the way to the station, they begin to notice brewing unrest – a flaming building in the distance, fire engines, police cars and ambulances blaring past. But it isn’t until they’re on the train and leaving the station that they learn the horrible truth: a zombie epidemic is sweeping the country. Thus begins a claustrophobic fight for survival. Train to Busan is a loose, live-action sequel to the animated Seoul Station (also featured in this year’s Eastern Promises section). Like its predecessor, this suspense-filled thrill ride allows the director to use the zombie-flick genre to draw attention to topical themes in contemporary Korea. The diverse set of passengers and the relations between them speak to problems of social inequality, while also levelling a critique of the establishment in a country where a person’s background remains a deciding factor in their social acceptance.
In This Corner of This World (Sunao Katabuchi, 2016, Japan)
In This Corner of the World tells the story of a girl with the power to see beauty in the everyday, capture it with a pencil and paper, and transform events into adventures. Suzu Urano is growing up in 1930s Japan; her parents have arranged for her to marry a young clerk who works at the naval base in Kure, Hiroshima Prefecture. She loses herself in her own daydreams as easily as she does on the way home. This talent of hers sets the tone for this delicate, dreamlike film. WWII and its atomic bombs (or “new bombs”) have long been a fixture of Japanese cinema, spanning a wide range of genres and perspectives. But In This Corner of the World is less interested in the war itself than it is in its consequences, which it shows with a yearning for joy that verges on the obstinate. Most of all, it notices the lovely trivialities of civilian life: frugal wartime recipes, herons, white bunnies and the indefatigable will to live on. This fragile yet powerful gem of a film continues to resonate long after the closing credits.
Mrs K (Ho Yuhang, 2016, Hong Kong)
2016 was an interesting year for Kara Wai (credited as Kara Hui in her older films) – her portrayal of a woman with Alzheimer’s disease who befriends young homeless man in the film Happiness (d. Andy Lo) earned her Best Actress at the Hong Kong Film Awards. In 1982, Wai was actually the first actress to ever receive the award. Mrs K, her second collaboration with Malaysian director Ho Yuhang, marks Wai’s return to her kung-fu and wu-xia roots. Mrs K enjoys her unhurried suburban life with her husband and daughter. Everything is hunky-dory, but Mrs K has a secret which someone has decided should be secret no longer. Good thing Mrs K is a woman. Why? Because women are professional survivors.
Vampire Cleanup Department (Chiu Sin-hang, 2017, Hong Kong)
Hiding in the shadows of Hong Kong is a secret organization that fights hordes of hopping vampires in this gleefully goofy Hong Kong horror comedy about a young man recruited to the team after he discovers he is immune to vampire attacks. Vampires have always been here. We just haven’t seen them, thanks to a secret city organization: VDC – the Vampire Cleanup Department. Their secret base is hidden in a remote trash collection point. The big green rubbish bins contain the defeated vampires. The street sweepers that work there are the vampire hunters. Tim is a typical Hong Kong teenager. He lives with his grandmother and plays with his iPhone all day. By some strange twist of fate, he is invited to become a new member of the VCD, where he is trained to fight vampires with his broom as one of the vampire hunters.
Yourself and Yours (Hong Sang-soo, 2016, S.Korea)
Hong Sang-soo, master of melancholy, booze-riddled melodramas, has more to say about love. In Yourself and Yours, a young man has fallen in love with an alcoholic who constantly struggles to stop drinking. Or so she proclaims. Is she serious? Or is it just another front? Is it really her at all, given that certain scenes appear quite suspect, fabricating “reality”? Hong draws inspiration from Buñuel’s That Obscure Object of Desire (1977), where one actress plays multiple characters. Or is it one character played by multiple actresses? The auteur obfuscates the plot and relativizes the apparent objective existence of his characters, whose behaviour is truly unpredictable. But this is by no means a complicated film. Quite the opposite; it is surprisingly funny, entertaining and wise, thanks in part to the precise simplicity with which Hong composes his scenes, reminiscent of Woody Allen’s film work. For Yourself and Yours, Hong was named Best Director at the San Sebastián IFF.
Seoul Station (Yeon Sang-ho, 2016, S. Korea)
At a train station, an aging homeless man appears with a bloody wound on his neck. As he begins to lose consciousness, another homeless man tries to get help. But this proves nearly impossible in a city where it’s every man for himself. Thus begins a night of chaos, desperation and fear, where people transform into walking dead with a craving for the lives of passers-by. This year’s Eastern Promises presents an unorthodox (by Korean standards) introduction to the zombie subgenre. Part of its uniqueness is that one of the examples (Seoul Station) is animated and views the zombie scourge from its very epicentre, while the second, its loose live-action sequel Train to Busan, broadens its focus, depicting the spread of the epidemic around the country. The director of the two films uses the genre as an allegory for thorny societal problems in his home country. Seoul Station specifically serves as a metaphor for the alienation that grows out of a consumer society and institutional bureaucracy.
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