Poesía

Lee Chang Dong has always been a favorite Korean director of mine. His films, including "Poetry," have a subtle yet captivating force. "Poetry" is not for the average film viewer, but is for more mature audiences who are not afraid to confront life as it is and the existential aspects of life in general. The film is an exploration of complex human conditions that people can often find boring. But "Poetry" is inarguably meaningful and deep in its own way. It presents life realistically, but also paves way for finding positive little things within the worst conditions. "Poetry" is a film that will make you think in a way that almost no Hollywood movie can. Certainly, it is a powerful film as well. The only problem is that the majority of the population can misunderstand a film such as this one. It is a film that requires effort on the part of the audience to think and interpret the film for what it is. But once the purpose of the film is appreciated, it is a wonderful film for what it's worth. Go and watch it. It's a film that can change the way you look at everyday things.

Reading Poetry's summary, one sees a sentimental film. I surely wasn't sure if I wanted to see this or not. I am completely happy I did.

What we have here is a slow-paced, delicate film. But it doesn't sway in sentimentality. It's subtle, quiet, and perhaps the most gentle film of the year, but it also wallows in the study of a suburban woman and in many ways feels like a dark portrait of a story. Yoon Jeong-hee is magnificent! She conveys so much emotion, and we realize just how quickly we want to see her journey here. The direction is assured, quitely letting us explore, never calling attention to itself. The screenplay is brilliant, and has the ideal arc needed for a film like this.

There are many amazing moments in this film, moments that really grabbed me and that emotionally shook me. One of the best films of the year in an already amazing year for film.

What a wonderful film! To give my personal answer to one interviewer's question "Do you regard cinema, too, to be a dying form?" to the director Lee Chang-Dong. I believe (and deeply hope) that as long as films like Poetry are being made cinema will continue to flourish because it is important. It will continue to exist as long as humans exist because they are about being human. I was struck by how masterfully two sides of our humanness were presented in the film. On the one hand, it is about our search for beauty, as beauty can only be experienced if something of our own potential beauty responds to the beauty around us. There is something spiritual in this as Beauty and Truth are essentially one. On the other hand, there is the human predicament. That includes the pro and cons of the fact that we always have the choice to decide if we act ethically or not. That means if we actually say Yes to what is intrinsically our positive potential, or we say No and harm others, our environment and as a kind of end result, ourselves. What for me links the two is impermanence. Old age, illness and suicide as it is shown in the film. "Everything that is born will have to die" goes a very old Buddhist saying, and that happens no matter if we like it or not. At the same time, would we experience beauty if everything was to exist forever? Is it not because a beautiful flower grows out of a very simple looking seed in spring and then withers away after some weeks that it can become so precious to us? Without impermanence there is, one could say, by definition no beauty. Both are somehow the two sides of the same metaphorical coin. The same is true about this film. It still lingers on in my heart and mind weeks after I saw it. Very much like a true and wonderful poem, for example Rainer Maria Rilke's First Duino Elegy. It is is just about that, the wonder and horror of beauty.

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.

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.