Reviews of FAQ, Brush Of The God, Onpaku, and Breaking and Re-Entering
The 23rd annual New York Asian Film Festival takes place from July 12 to July 28. For more information, please click here.
FAQ
Every year without fail, I say some variation on the exact same thing: watching the movies of the New York Asian Film Festival isn’t just rewarding because the movies are good, it’s rewarding because it reinforces just how big a world we actually live in, and how much cultures can differ from one mass of land to the next.
Which is to say: it’s highly unlikely in America would make this movie. And if they did, it wouldn’t have this tone. And if it did, it certainly wouldn’t be for kids.
But in South Korea, they did, it does, and it is.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but Kim Da-mins’ FAQ is a movie about an introverted little girl named Dongchun who stumbles upon a bottle of rice wine that burbles in morse code that, when translated into Persian and then back into Korean, gives her various tasks to perform towards unknown (but, spoiler alert ultimately benign) purposes.
And… that’s the movie. That is what happens.
Now, this is, I feel it’s safe to say, an unusual premise. But not so unusual that I can’t see a version of it getting made in America. As I said earlier… unlikely, but hardly impossible. But I can already imagine the tone of tht film, and it wouldn’t be anything like this. FAQ is determinedly low key, gentle, and sincere. It is, at heart, a dramatic slice of life movie undergirded by an absurdity, and that absurdity is treated with a studied casualness. And the fact that it works so well is a tribute to its lead performer Park Na-eun, defying the odds by being a child actor who isn’t terrible. Far from it, in fact; Na-eun captures inwardness with a restraint that is distressingly rare in a performer so young. When playing a naturally recessive character it’s easy to oversignify, but even in the most improbable of circumstances, Na-eun always keeps her eye on the ball.
It’s not a perfect film; the subplot with Dongchun’s mother (Park Hyojoo), and her frosty relationship with her itinerant brother (Kim Hiewan) feels underbaked. Hyojoo and Hiewan are excellent, with Hyojoo being especially affecting in a late in the film speech about her periodic bouts of depression, another subject unlikely to be dealt with so bluntly in an American children’s film. And Hiewan, who has some fun early scenes with Na-eun (which, oddly, don’t connect to the rest of the film quite as well as they seem like they should), does a lot with a little, storywise.
But whatever it’s flaws, they seem easy to forgive in light of the ultimate resolution of the film, where the true story of the rice wine is revealed. It all leads to a creative choice an American childrens’ film would never even consider, but which feels just right. This is quite simply not the way we tell stories here, and frankly, that’s our loss.
I am just now realizing I didn’t even mention the giant, adorable muppet-like creatures that occasionally appear to help Dongchun think through her actions and feelings and sometimes whisk her off to a patently fake open field backdrop. Which is also a thing that happens.
BRUSH OF THE GOD
“Touching” was not a word I was expecting to use to describe my feelings towards Brush Of The God, but here we are.
Like FAQ, Brush Of The God is a family movie. Unlike FAQ, it’s got more of the sorts of things American audiences would expect from a movie aimed primarily at kids: monsters, pirates, adventure. But the two films share a certain understatement. There’s a pronounced sense of wistfulness, or melancholy, just underneath the surface. In FAQ, this feels keeping in step with the overall whimsical tone. But here, in the context of a tale that feels almost childlike in its simplicity (but with a fascinating touch of meta-ness), it adds an emotional depth that keeps it from being the surface level lark it might have been otherwise.
Akari (Rio Suzuki) is the shy granddaughter of recently deceased special effects artist Kenzo Tokimiya (Shiro Sano in flashbacks), and seems indifferent at best to his legacy. At a memorial displaying some of his most famous works, she and her nerdy classmate Takuya (Takeru Narahara, pretty fun) are approached by the mysterious Hozuni (Takumi Saito), who gifts Akari the script for an unmade film Tokiyama never got the chance to make, and a special brush that teleports her and Takuya into this film that never was, tasked with saving it from disappearing forever… and with it, possibly the entire world.
At a little over 70 minutes, the movie wastes no time getting to the meat of the story, and while the plot convolutions doesn’t exactly make sense, it couldn’t be more obvious that that’s entirely besides the point. The film exists for one reason, and one reason only: to show off some very cool monsters.
This is, safe to say, a passion project for Keizo Murase, a veteran of Japanese cinema who has been working in the industry for over nearly 70 years. To that end, some might say this is a rather indulgent venture; it’s clear the oft-referenced film ‘Revenge of the Mighty Primitive’ is a reference to his work on cult classic The Mighty Peking Man, and it’s not at all difficult to spot his own tribute to his work in the ‘Kamen Rider’ TV series.
So, yes, that aspect exists. But I guess my rule is, if you sculpted Mothra, Gamera and King Ghidorah, you’re 90 years old and you want to get a little self-indulgent… I do believe I’ll allow it.
And the monsters that Akari and Takuya encounter are nothing short of stunning. As someone who was raised on these kaiju movies, seeing these exquisite, elaborate suits was nothing short of breathtaking.
Yes, nostalgia is a poison. But I’ve missed this.
Usually humans are the least interesting part of a kaiju movie, and I’ll grant you it’s a big ask to expect anyone to be able to stand up to the likes of a Goranza or an Orochi (watch the film and you’ll see what I mean). But credit where credit is due: Rio Suzuki is quite good here. Blessed with some of the most expressive eyes I’ve seen on any actor, child or grown, she plays a fantastical situation surprisingly real without ever negating the sense of wonder, which really is an impressive feat. Between this and Park No-eun in FAQ, I feel like I can’t keep starting every paragraph about child actors by saying how terrible they all are. At least at NYAFF, it seems like there are too many exceptions to the rule to keep touting said rule.
With its backstory and indescribably gorgeous creature effects, it’s easy to forgive the minor flaws here. All the budget clearly went towards the monster costumes, so the fantasy land is a decidedly unconvincing greenscreen effect. But even this lends a charming air of unreality to the proceedings. And while the setup doesn’t entirely make sense, the metaphor could not be more clear, or more poignant; it’s clever, the way Takuya uses the script notes to solve the perils of their strange new world, but it’s the runner of the script pages disappearing that really drives home what the stakes actualy are.
Every creative writer worth their salt has a dream project, the thing they most want to share with the world. And if they die before that project gets made, the dream goes with them… unless somewhere is there to remember. It’s a deft commentary on legacy from someone who has more than earned the right to say it, and for that alone, this movie is a momnument.
ONPAKU
Shugo Fujii’s Onpaku presents me with a fascinating conundrum; whatever its flaws as a film, it has an undeniable unnerving atmosphere from basically frame one. And yet, for me personally, the films’ worst moments are the ones where it explicitly leans into actual horror.
Which is to say, the film creates such a fantastic horrific atmosphere that it’s a shame that it has to be a horror movie.
The film opens with a haiku from Japenese poet Kyoshi Takihama, of which I did not clock the thematic relevance. This will not be the last time this film confuses me, but never mind.
Sarah (Josie Ho, quite good) arrives in Japan to check out a potential housing investment on behalf of the company she works for. Half-Japanese on her mothers’ side and half-British, she was raised in Hong Kong under circumstances that only become clear later in the film, but which have clearly left her disconnected from that part of her heritage. The assignment comes at an opprtune time, as she has just split with a partner, about whom we only learn will not be paying for her abortion.
The hits keep coming when, upon arrival, she finds out there’s no record of her hotel reservation, and it’s impossible to find another hotel on account of the President being in town (just go with it). Her appointed liason/translator/former boyfriend from way back offers her the use of the property she’s come to inspect, a decrepit house that is rumored to be haunted. With no other options on the table, she decides she can manage for one night.
You can probably make some safe assumptions about how well this goes for her.
There is also a subplot about a racist, alcholic detective played by Kazuya Takahashi who finds himself involved with Sarah’s troubles and a cursed notebook… but given how tangental that stuff seems to the outcome of the film, and the borederline hilariously abrupt way his part ends, I’m assuming all that was an excuse to up the body count at the expense of coherence. Kind of a pity, actually: Josie Ho is giving the better, more nuanced performance, but Takahashi seems like he might be in the more interesting version of the movie.
The film, as I understand it, is a tribute to V-Cinema horror, a very specific subgenre I admittedly have little knowledge of. I suspect the appeal is basically the freedom the format allows to just be a string of set pieces, without pretensions to mainstream concepts like coherence, or plot.
To be clear, that’s not a negative: look, I love me some Dario Argento, I’m not about to be up in these streets complaining that a horror movie doesn’t make any sense. But the mythology behind Sarah’s past and her connection to this haunted house, is both deeply convoluted and not particularly interesting. And the cursed notebook subplot at least offers a structure and incident, but it all comes to nothing in the end.
Onpaku is a moderately healthy mix of things that work very well, things that might work for a very specific audience, and stuff that doesn’t work at all. What does work, as mentioned earlier, is the atmosphere. Even in moments where nothing horrific is going on (especially in those scenes, really), the sense of unease and tension is palpable.
Which is why it’s a shame that Fujii can’t leave well enough alone.
This is absolutely a horror film, but ironically, the explicit moments of horror are by far the weakest; we’ve seen these jump scares before, and they’ve long since lost their power. Worse, in these moments, Fujii frequently compunds the problem by relying on hacky, in-your-face camera trickery and jump cuts, the likes of which Chris Cunningham was doing to much greater effect 25 years ago. I will concede that the ending certainly punches above its weight in terms of grotesquerie; there’s some truly nasty stuff in those last ten minutes. But the obnoxious filmmaking and the lack of sense made it very difficult for me to care.
A good lesson to learn in life is that it’s okay for things to not be for me, and ultimately Onpaku is a film that is not for me. It has its strong points, to be sure, it’s just that those strong points aren’t enough for me personally to overcome the grating style choices and the lack of imagination in the earlier scare scenes. But even I have to admit that for fans of the truly vile, that ending will probably play their reptile brains like a harp from hell. And more power to ‘em, honestly.
BREAKING AND RE-ENTERING
One thing that remains eternally true of the NYAFF is that however unusual, challenging, or just plain unexpected their film selections are, you are guaranteed at least one surefire, straight-down-the-middle audience pleaser, a mainline injection of pure, uncut entertainment. This year in particular seems an abundance of riches: not only the latest in the delightfully punchy Roundup series, but the American premiere of the third Baby Assassins film and the absolutely spectacular looking Twilight Of The Warriors: Walled In. But if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to direct your attention to a movie that might not have the marquee value or megastars of the heavy hitters, but proves to be a wildly entertaining 100 minutes
The elevator pitch for this one is as simple as can be: reverse heist. Our heroes, a plucky quartet of master thieves successfully pull off a massive score, only to find out they’ve been set up and the only way to make it out alive is to return the money.
Happily, hi-jinks ensue.
Breaking and Re-Entering is that rarest of birds: a spoof that also manages to replicate the actual joys of the thing it’s making fun of. There are some pretty good, fairly quick fights and an exciting car chase (expertly crafted by action director Hung Shih-Hao), but for the most part this is a comedy, and the laughs come fast and heavy.
I knew I was in good hands from the very opening, a spot-on cheesy commercial for Wanxi Bank, both soliciting charity donations from the general public and extolling the virtues of BST, the hot new cryptocurrency. This is how we are introduced to our antagonist Chen Hai-Jui as played by Kang-Ren Wu, the first scene stealer in a film that seems to consist almost entirely of scene stealers. Which feels appropriate for a movie about thieves.
Wu hams it up with aplomb, every inch the prototypical callow, smarmy tech bro, quoting Spider-Man and radiating phony benevolence from his well-managed pores. Two minutes in and we’re already gleefully anticipating this guy getting his comeuppance. It is a delight.
From there we go right into the heist, and meet the thieves: Kao, the motormouthed computer hacker who loves obscure facts and bad puns; Uncle Bin, the master of disguise who can’t stop talking about his new wife and stepdaughter; Wen Hao, the hilariously stone face muscle; and their fearless leader Po Chun, a tactical genius only recently released from prison. Suffice to say, the score goes off without a hitch, but when Po Chun realizes they’re just pawns in Chen’s scam to acquire the money himself, it’s a race to extract themselves from a dangerous situation the only way they know how: by stealing. Or… un-stealing.
Also, by way of screenwriting contrivance, Shu-Wen, the love of Po-Chungs life happens to not only be working at the bank, but is intended to scapegoated as the inside man for the theft. Can Po-Chung lose the money and get the girl?
Well, yeah. Probably. But it’s really not about the destination, y’know…?
For a movie that seems hesitant to go for more than 30 seconds without a gag of some kind, the hit to miss ratio is incredibly high. And it’s not just the main cast who get the laughs; there’s a spirit od generosity in the casting here, where pretty much every single person who has a speaking line gets to toss off a funny bit or two. And that ‘toss off’ is key, here; it would be very easy to go big with some of this stuff (and occasionally they do), but there’s an expert balance of throwaway lines and reaction shots to big slapstick set pieces, which means the movie never settles into one mode long enough for things to get stale. It’s just crowd pleasing entertainment at its finest.
To give you an idea of how well this movie works, consider this: there was a fart joke in the first five minutes… and I didn’t mind it.
Powerful mojo, indeed.
As usual, I am reluctant to say much more; the double barreled combination of heist movie and comedy make it hard to go into details without spoiling the best gags and some very fun twists and turns. It’s the sort of film best experienced with a crowd. Or, failing that, with a small group of friends. Or even just one enemy. Or by yourself.
Look, just see it! It’s a real good time, I promise!
