Dae-Ho is your completely average middle-class working man.  He hates his job, his boss is a complete prick who enjoys putting his employees in headlocks, the ladies ignore him, and his dad thinks he’s a failure.  That all changes when Dae-Ho begins a secret life as a pro wrestler, donning the mantle of the legendary Foul King and becoming the most notorious rassler in all of Korea.  In the ring, he finds his true calling, as well as people who begin to accept him for who he is.  Unfortunately, The Foul King is just never as enjoyable as it could be.

There are certainly moments that had me rolling on the floor (such as when Dae-Ho begins wearing the Foul King’s mask in public).  But there’s plenty of padding, usually involving Dae-Ho bumbling in front of his co-workers (including the gal he has a crush on) or as he tries to learn the ropes.

The film gets a much-needed boost of energy in the final 25 minutes or so when the Foul King heads into the ring for his greatest fight.  Director Ji Woon Kim (who also wrote the movie) takes a page out of Guy Ritchie’s playbook, using wild camerawork and filming to achieve the same effect as Snatch‘s boxing scenes.  It soon escalates into an all-out brawl, as the Foul King and his opponent take it outside of the ring for a real free-for-all that starts off hilarious and becomes a tab uncomfortable to watch.

Still, there are long stretches where the film just seems to be running on fumes.  You wonder how long it’s going to be before Dae-Ho finally starts acting on all of this inner strength his wrestling alter ego supposedly gives him.  How long will it be before he starts to live up the Foul King’s legend?  How long will it be before he gives up on his snooty co-worker and hooks up with his coach’s hot daughter?

Finally, there’s the social commentary.  The film takes what should be some subtle jabs at modern society and its tendency to marginalize those who don’t fit in and gets a bit pedantic with them.  After hearing Dae Ho’s boss rant on and on about his uselessness, I was ready to get in line to pop the guy one.

All in all, The Foul King will probably frustrate most viewers, but they will find some comedic treasure amidst the flotsam and jetsam.  They’ll just have to be real patient.

One caveat, however.  The version I watched didn’t contain the original Korean soundtrack.  Rather it came with Cantonese (starring Steven Chow) and Mandarin soundtracks.  I’m not sure how much this affected my impression, but it has in the past (Bichunmoo being a shining example).  I’d be interested in watching this with the original Korean soundtrack, if only to see if some of the comedy just didn’t carry over.  However, with a film like The Foul King, which is largely physical comedy to begin with, I’m willing to wager I didn’t miss too terribly much.

I normally prefer to watch movies alone. First off, I get pretty tired of all of the kung fu and anime jokes that I get heckled with by people walking through the room. Second, people always seem to insist on asking me questions about what’s going to happen next in the movie, rather than patiently waiting 5 more minutes to find out for themselves. Finally, more people just mean more distractions, especially when I just want to really absorb and digest a movie (be it a French surrealist piece or a madcap Hong Kong actionfest). It’s difficult enough to make it through some of the movies I watch without having to put up with some smart aleck’s wisecracks, or yet another “I can’t believe you bought this” comment.

Of course, there are notable exceptions to this, and Wild Zero is one of them. The first time I saw this movie I was alone, which may have been a mistake. Mathematically speaking, this is one case where your enjoyment of the movie is directly proportional to the number of people in the room with you.

For better or worse, Tetsuro Takeuchi set out to make the ultimate cult movie, culling elements from zombie movies (Night Of The Living Dead), 50s B-grade sci-fi movies (Plan 9 From Outer Space), and rock n’ roll movies (Rock N’ Roll High Forever). And it might be that his little formula worked a little too well for the film’s own good. In the end Wild Zero is filled with lots of ambition, excess, and energy that gets a little ahead of itself at times.

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You could describe Battle Royale in many ways.  You could call it satirical and disturbing, poignant and depraved, tragic and horrible.  You could acclaim it for being a brilliant look at society’s disregard for its youth, or a critique on violence.  You could vilify it for being monstrous and sickening.  You could do all of these things, and you’d be right.  All the while watching Battle Royale, I went through phases.  I was shocked by the film’s premise, horrified at the violence, and sickened by the film’s implications.  But perhaps most shocking of all, I found myself deeply moved by the characters and their tragic situation.

What kind of film could cause such varying reactions?  Well, to start off, Battle Royale is not a film for every taste.  In fact, I’m surprised the film has even been shown outside of Japan, or even made for that matter.  Lord knows that certain special interests and political groups would go out of their way to kill this movie if an American studio conceived it.  In light of tragedies like Columbine, and even current events, it’s no wonder that American distributors won’t even touch this movie.

Describe the concept of the film to most people, and you’ll immediately see shock that a movie like this even exists.  Based upon Koshun Takami’s novel, Battle Royale is set in a future where Japan has become a boiling pot of unrest.  The unemployment rate’s up, the economy is horrible, and students around the nation are boycotting school.  Hoping to put some discipline and fear back into the youth, the government passes the “Battle Royale Act”.  At random, a 9th grade class is chosen from among the nation’s schools and sent to a deserted island.  There, they must fight it out amongst themselves until one remains.

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In The Scent Of Green Papaya, director Trân Anh Hûng crafted a beautifully moving story with only a minimum of dialog, concerned more with using mood and atmosphere the carry the story than anything else.  The Vertical Ray Of The Sun has more dialog, but the intent is still the same, effectively drawing you into the movie so much that, at times, you don’t want to hear anything at all.  All you want to do is sit and ingest each and every lush image.

Focusing on the lives of 3 sisters and their closeknit family, the movie chronicles the 30 day span between the memorial of their mother’s funeral and the memorial of their father’s.  But the movie certainly takes its time revealing details.  For the first half hour or so, plot details are scant.  What’s obviously more important is the setting, the feel of the scenes.

Hûng’s camera lovingly captures the surroundings in bright, colorful details.  Everything has its vibrancy turned up a notch or two, from the bright green flora to the deep blues of the rainy nights to the shiny black depths of the sisters’ hair as they wash it, The Vertical Ray Of The Sun is alive with color.  One of my friends walked in haflway through the film, and immediately commented on how serene it was, and I think that’s the best way to describe it.  It is serene, but great passions boil just beneath the surface.

Slowly, details begin to emerge about the family, the sisters and their various relationships.  As always, the dialog remains minimal, relying on the viewer to tie things together.  As one does, it becomes apparent that some of the emerging details could threaten the serenity of the sisters’ lives.  Infidelities, past and present, come forward to haunt various members of the family, echoing an affair their mother might have had so many years ago.

But there’s also the promise of forgiveness, that a family sticks together no matter what.  Even in the midst of betrayal, new life can also emerge.  Again, the director keeps details to the bare essentials, often letting silence say more than any dialog ever could.  And there are those beautiful visuals, always the beautiful visuals.

Indeed, it’s so easy to get swept up in the sights of this movie, the way the camera turns the rituals of everyday life, even something as unglamorous as waking up or washing one’s hair, into a sensual dance.  It’s so easy to get caught up that the ending comes as a complete shock, rudely jarring you out of the movie’s pace and back into the real world.  I have to admit some disappointment at the ending, the way it leaves so many things unsaid or undone.  But at the same time, the things that it does leave behind remain vivid in my memory.