After making a name for himself with the round-house kick to the heart that was “Oasis” and the powerful (yet unfortunately unavailable on R1 DVD) “Secret Sunshine,” South Korean Minister of Culture Lee Chang-dong returns with the Cannes Best Screenplay Winner “Poetry.”
Veteran actor Yun Jung-Hee (who holds a resume that includes over 300 Korean films) carries the film single-handedly, playing the aged lead Mija. She drifts through the film with grace, despite having to parent her ungrateful grandson Wook and caring for a paralyzed elderly man who continuously makes sexual advances. The onset of Alzheimer’s disease looms, slowly deteriorating her brain and causing her to forget simple words. The most painful part of these moments is not the fact that she’s forgetting the word “wallet” at a store (and being vocal about it), but how her pleasant demeanor remains, treating it playfully and ignoring the tragedy of the disease. She’s not completely impenetrable, though, and what ultimately disrupts her is the discovery that Wook may have caused a fellow student to commit suicide. Finding herself lost in an immoral situation without an idea of how to handle it, she joins a local poetry class and rekindles her love for the art. She holds high hopes that this will give her not only the outlet to express herself, but maybe some answer to how to deal with this frighteningly serious situation.
Certainly, this is the densest Mr. Lee has ever been, with a number of subplots, topics, themes, and metaphors all occurring and intersecting at once. He won the top screenwriting award for a reason and everything is interwoven seamlessly; it all feels completely natural within the context of the story. Though the ideas work together and flow properly, the big problem is that few of them are given ample time to flourish properly before the film shifts focus onto the next one. Ideas that do get fleshed out (how responsible we are for tragedy that doesn’t directly affect us, poetry as an art) are much too vague to really pin down, while other areas such as dementia and aging aren’t explored enough. It’s not exactly a mess, but it doesn’t exactly work to the degree that it should.
As Mija’s fascination with poetry deepens, she discovers a small clique of amateur poets who take part in a sort of open-mic deal. It’s here (and also the few scenes in the classroom) that the director’s humor is really apparent, and a biting satire emerges. These moments consist of generic, impersonal poetry (well received by the group, of course), readers explaining their work seconds after reciting it, and members spending more time doing crass stand-up routines than actually speaking of the art. It’s uncomfortable, funny, and sad; a great example of the Korean new wave’s penchant for directing scenes in such a way that will invoke various different audience emotions/reactions at once.
Outside of the literary world, the discovery of Wook’s involvement with the recently departed student — he, along with five of his friends, raped her in an unused classroom — places Mija at a meeting with the other boys’ parents. All are well-to-do businessmen at least 20 years her senior, and they’re more than ready to pay off the girl’s mother to keep it hush-hush. Plans are already decided before the grandmother is even contacted, favoring what’s best for these boys’ future. Not even given the chance to absorb the bombardment of information before they begin planning how much cash to give the mourning parent, they settle on an exorbitant sum that she couldn’t possibly have available to her, which causes even more ethical turmoil. The woman opts to delve into her writing, which affords her the time and privacy to contemplate the situation and decide what the right thing to do is, struggling with giving her grandson a positive future or having him punished for his crime. Indeed, the film is openly moralistic, but the stream-like flow and magnificently framed shots prevent the it from being too overbearing with its overall messages. It’s also helpful that Lee manages to perfectly connect the audience with his main character, as every weight on the generally light-hearted woman is felt. Her inevitable poem is rather devastating and the scenes accompanying it are masterfully affecting.
Despite its strengths, there’s an underlying feeling that the director bit off more than he could chew, and it’s one that can’t be shaken upon reflection on the film. It must be noted that Lee Chang-dong is one of the few directors who, even with a misfire, still makes a film that is better than most out there during any given year. His ambitions are nothing short of admirable, but if only he had shed some of the weaker ideas or simplified the plot he could’ve had another near-flawless film to add to his resume. As it stands, there are some flashes of genius and skill here and there, but as a whole it doesn’t hold up as well as it could, or should. [B-]