Shi

What a contrast to the average Hollywood product which highlights guns afire, frantic car chases and exploding buildings--noise and action aplenty: this subtle and enticing tale of self-realization is the antithesis of the action film, although within the first few minutes of the film, in the midst of children playing near a river, a body floats by and sets an odd tone for the remainder of the film. A grandmother who learns she has an incurable illness and who discovers her grandson is not merely a disaffected teen who cannot clean up after himself--but something worse-- the woman inexplicably enrolls in a poetry class and for the next two hours we are taken along her journey in a most leisurely fashion, a film with powerful cinematography and at last, a puzzling, thoughtful conclusion: if you want easy entertainment with pat answers, this is not your film. If you enjoy an immersion in another culture from another point of view, this might be a great treat for you--it was for me

There's an outstanding outward composure pervading this movie, to the point that it seems impossible not to feel in the end a sense of calm, although the cruelty of some situations. This is probably a typical feature of all oriental pictures and culture as well, but here it is most evident, almost therapeutic. The protagonist is a small, meek, cheerfully dressed, sixty-something woman, in the early stages of Alzheimer's, who has to look after her troublesome grandson, dramatically connected with a shocking event in the small Korean city where they live. It's a slow movie, which leaves ample scope to the unsaid and the unwritten, but dripping with strong and deep humanity. Mija reveals such determination in her simple and peaceful going on, holding on, she proves the real strength of real strong people, that strength that does not need any evident outward demonstrations, but only the inner will of a meek nature who continues to see the beauty of a flower or the perfection of an apple, and the beauty of poetry, of course, against the ugliness of men (and here the ugliness of a male chauvinist society is to be underlined). The movie reveals such delicacy, such subtlety and tact while approaching the most disturbing topics, that we as viewers can manage everything, feeling a kind of respect towards us, and feeling also grateful for that. Great work by the director Lee Chang-dong then, and standing ovation for Yun Jung-hee for her intense, poignant, stunning interpretation of Mija. The last shots on her finally achieved poem are petrifying and soothing at the same time, showing an incredible emotional intensity. These are movies that should reach the big screen more often and more widely.

It never ceases to amaze me how Korean film makers seem capable of balancing so much in their films - so many of the best films from Korea seem to defy any genre categorizations. They are often funny when you expect them to be horrifying, thrilling when you expect them to be ethereal, and have a way of turning all audience expectations upside down.

Poetry is one of the very best Korean films of the last few years. I saw it last week, and still can't get that wonderful old lady out of my head. It is, very briefly, about a proud but desperately poor woman in her mid-60's, who looks after her taciturn teenage grandson, who finds out that he may have been involved in the rape of a girl who later commits suicide. Simultaneously, she is diagnosed with early Alzheimers disease. She is also trying to find an artistic outlet, to make some mark on the world before she loses her grip. All these elements come together in a way with is somethings horrifying, sometimes fascinating, and ultimately very beautiful.

This film is a flat out masterpiece and demands to be seen.

As a lover of World Cinema and having had a few poems of my own published here and there, South Korea's 'Poetry' was always going to be a double treat for me.

The film's beauty is that it's not just about poetry but how that it can fit into everyday lives and help folk the see the inner beauty that it brings. Mija (an excellent Jeong-he Yun) a 66 year old woman, suffering the onset of Alzheimers, sees the simple beauty in an apple and of fallen apricots on the ground.

She gets this after starting poetry classes and whilst she fails to get her 'poetic awakening', she sets herself the target of writing just one poem.

Considering that this gentle, graceful lady is bringing up a teenage grandson who has committed a serious crime and as a job cares part-time for an elderly stroke victim these poetical leanings are a soothing diversion for both us - and her. (She's not bad at badminton, either!) It's actually the way the film contrasts several issues, the modern contemporary ones that give the film its backbone, the age difference clashes with the grandson and the lyrical - but unsentimental - softer side and you get a modest and modern masterpiece.

Avoid if only Iron Man 2 can move you. But if you have a heart, one where a soul and emotion can flourish and you enjoy a well acted, straightforward modern film - wherever in the world that it might come from - then 'Poetry' has a wide and worthwhile appeal.

Poetry (2010)

Steady and stealthy, this film proposes to be as lyrical and compact as a poem, but then it keeps going and ends up larger and more impressive than you'd expect. And the acting by leading female actress, the Korean star Jeong-hie Yun, is startling and nuanced, a great performance.

At the heart of the plot are two plots. The first is the title line—elderly Mija has decided to learn how to write poetry, so she attends a class (filled with younger students). The second is about a sex crime—a gang rape it turns out—by her grandson, who she is raising alone. The two are nearly opposites in so many ways we see how life itself balances the beautiful and ugly, and responsibility and indifference. In a larger way, "Poetry" is about contemporary life in Korea, and the interactions of ordinary people in extreme situations will be revealing to many outside of Korea.

It's hard to overstate how well this movie pulls off something socially serious and yet makes it all understated and almost matter of fact. There are these several lines of thought that keep going throughout, and that don't quite converge until the very end, which is both tragic (truly) and a bit mysterious. What exactly is the implication of that last scene on the bridge, and the water that shows nothing? It hearkens to the beginning, of course, but we have our main character at hand.

In that sense, it's a brilliant, almost perfect evocation of contemporary Korea on the most normal, middle class level. Lovely and loving, and cold and brutal. And it shows the glib sexism of the men there, much like everywhere at various times. And how to survive you sometimes have to just proceed. And then, of course, sometimes you do not survive.