Review by Keri O’Shea
Some of the hardest things to watch unfold on screen are tales in which ordinary people – people who are perhaps only once-removed from being any one of us, thanks to an event in their lives – are propelled into extraordinary circumstances, as they simply try to get by. This isn’t easy to do: underplay the characterisation and the gravitas and the film looks trite; slather on the high emotion, and you are left with sentimentality. So, when these tales are told well, when the pathos and depth of the film provides its audience with a close interest in how the story plays itself out, then there is much to be applauded. The Yellow Sea is one of these films: a massive movie, chaptered into four parts and weighing in at two hours and sixteen minutes (which is actually significantly shorter than the Korean release) it gives a complex, deliberative examination of how the best laid plans can go to waste, and how, for one man, his situation eventually corners him.
The film starts in a location which, I have to admit, I never even knew existed until watching The Yellow Sea: the Yanbian Korean Autonymous Prefecture is a sort of hinterland between areas controlled by China, Korea and Russia – and its capital, Yanji City, is a tough area with lots of hardship (and those who come from there – known as Joseonjok – have to contend with prejudice against their ethnicity). People unable to find work in this area try to find a way to move elsewhere: this is what our lead character Gu-nam’s wife has done. He’s managed to secure a visa for her in South Korea, but Gu-nam (Jung-woo Ha) has run himself into some serious debt with the local gangsters – a debt to the tune of 60,000 yuan, something that an impoverished taxi driver will never be able to repay alone. As for his wife, he has lost touch with her since she crossed into South Korea. No phonecalls, nothing, and certainly no money being transferred to his account. He’s desperate, and worried, but he keeps fucking everything up by gambling what he does have in the hopes of a big win. This is a man at his lowest ebb, and people who frequent the lower depths of humanity can smell out people at their lowest ebb from a mile. His debtors tell him he has a ‘saviour’ – a shady local figure by the name of Myun (Kim Yun-seok). Myun wants someone killed in Korea. Hell, Gu-nam could even try to track down that wife of his while he’s there. Oh, and he has to get the job done within ten days, or his elderly mother and his daughter will be killed.
What follows for Gu-nam is a journey. Not a journey of the type which documentary filmmakers like – where self-knowledge makes someone a better person, or where one’s outlook on life is improved; instead, The Yellow Sea grinds an already unhappy man to ashes as he tries desperately to make sense of the wider picture he finds himself in – a world of organised crime, rival gangs and ulterior motives. It isn’t just a journey, it’s a pursuit. If that all sounds boringly familiar and rather too similar to the reams of crime thrillers we already have, then I can assure you, the tone and style of this film stands alone.
This is a beautifully made and shot film; huge in scope, it moves through vast vistas in China, Korea and Yanbian, capturing a large background cast of people – thousands and thousands of people, sometimes – all going about their business as our protagonist, in contrast, is shown to be markedly alone against this backdrop. Far Eastern poverty and crime has a jarring look and feel to it, and its cramped, coughing, sickly and smoke-filled spaces look very different to their Western equivalents. Meanwhile, through all of the long shots, we have Gu-nam: with almost no dialogue, he acts his story through his facial expressions alone, and most of the camera time is devoted to watching his face intently. Where he is concerned, there is claustrophobia and unease – captured most perfectly as he is smuggled to Korea by ship, a man alone in a teeming, nightmarish and alien space, his face betraying his confusion, then panic, then the resilience of someone desperate to save his family. Most of the film takes place in shade or outright darkness, too, giving the impression of a parallel world and its players, hidden and only partially-known.
The Yellow Sea works by revealing layer upon layer of human interest, which almost invariably means human suffering (and the fact that it expresses that suffering so well means that the gory sequences are all the stronger). Part and parcel of this is the way deprivation motivates people, and also – to be fair – how stupid people can be, when it comes down to it. I don’t just refer to Gu-nam in that respect; ineptitude figures highly here, be it from the police, who struggle to do their jobs, or the gangsters themselves, who also fail several times to take control of their situations. But then, strolling effortlessly into all manner of chaotic situations comes Myun – the only guy who seems to take stock of everything and see things go his way. Compared to Gu-nam, Myun is the polar opposite – a sort of jovial madman, whose presence in the plot definitely keeps an already-interesting character study even more engaging.
The main issue I had with the film was, simply, its potential to be confusing – it is a long, at times convoluted and maze-like story with masses of characters, interrelationships and interactions. Evidently Korean audiences have less of a hard time with this; as I mentioned, the film has actually been significantly cut shorter for this release, but for me the wealth of details to take on board was a challenge, as was the length of the sitting. This did interfere with my appreciation of the film to an extent, but by the same token, I wanted to unpick the various plot strands. In a weaker story, I would have been more indifferent to it.
This is a tragic story motivated all the way through by love, with more than its share of blood and high tension, but for me, the strongest feature of The Yellow Sea is the strong writing which allows such poignancy from the main characters. Although Gu-nam is in many ways an ambigious figure, you cannot but empathise with him, and the end of the story? The gut-punch to end them all. This is a dark piece of storytelling from director Hong-jin Na.
The Yellow Sea is released to Region 2 DVD and Blu-Ray on 26th March, from Eureka. For more info, visit www.theyellowsea.co.uk.