[K-FILM REVIEWS] 나무없는 산 (Treeless Mountain)

If you measure the future prospects of a film industry by taking a look at its talent pool of child actors, then Korea's next generation looks to be quite rosy, much more so than the previous two-three decades. It's not really a new phenomenon (people like Son Chang-Min, Lee Jae-Eun and Kim Min-Jung made a pretty smooth transition from their child actor roots), but perhaps a consequence of the cinematic renaissance which hit the country in the mid 1990s, creating dreams in the mind of many a Korean child (or their parents, I guess). If you think that only thirty or forty years ago children didn't even have the luxury of being dubbed by fellow children, you can get the idea of how much things have changed - the case of uber-veteran Kim Young-Ok providing voice acting for the (male) protagonist of the original 로보트 태권 V (Robot Taekwon V) is pretty famous by now. Some of the biggest acting exploits in today's Chungmuro are made by under-20, or often even under-15 actors, and not mentioning Shim Eun-Kyung would be criminal, considering what monstrous talent she's been displaying over the last 3-4 years, not to mention her recent exploits on TV - the genial Korean War black comedy 경숙이 경숙아버지 (My Dad Loves Trouble) - and the big screen - this year's only horror film worthy of note, 불신지옥 (Possessed).

Yet, child acting is always a double-edged sword, both for the kids themselves, but also directors. The most painful aspect of this quick rise to stardom is that, as you can imagine, many fail to make that transition into adult actors, and find themselves devoid of choices to make. I might be jumping the gun a little on this, but Moon Geun-Young's career is now pretty much chained inside a strange limbo, marked by visible but ambiguous popularity (she's not half as popular as she used to be), and puzzling choice of projects. Certainly, 바람의 화원 (Painter of the Wind) was a tremendous choice on paper, and considering how good her performance was, even in retrospect - before Park Shin-Yang's prima-donna shenanigans sent everything to kingdom come, that is. But Moon is now going through that delicate transition which will slowly leave the kid inside her at bay, and allow the woman, the adult actor to blossom afterwards. And that, really, is the point. Will audiences accept her as an adult actress? A look at the more provocative commercials and print ads she's been involved with recently, and the answer is a resounding no. This, of course, doesn't mean Moon will be forgotten, she is way too famous and talented for that to happen. But the next three to five years will be crucial for her career, as they will set in stone whether she'll become a major player (drawing power and acting skills, a la Son Ye-Jin), or just someone living off of her "good old days," like what Jung Tae-Woo and Ahn Jae-Mo have been stuck with for more than a decade now.

Child acting can be very testing for a director as well, especially with very young children, because even capable directors might crumble under the exacting demands of controlling a child's explosive spontaneity. Of course this separates the greats from the journeymen, but it also shows you how a child actor's talent is not the only thing you need in this case. Take, for instance, examples like little Eun Seo-Woo of 폰 (Phone), who went on to erase all the good things she blessed us with in Ahn Byung-Gi's horror with the equally horrific (unintentionally so) 클레멘타인 (Clementine), Steven Seagal's first venture into Korean shores. The issue here is clearly lack of control from the director: once kids Eun's age let praise get to their head (or their parents' head), they'll begin to internalize their performances, and will attempt to "measure" their acting, create from scratch what only spontaneity can give you. If the director is clueless, the kids can try all they want, but Eun in Clementine was prancing around like a diva from a 60s Korean melodrama, overacting worn on her sleeves. If you want a more recent example, take the excruciatingly bad acting of Wang Seok-Hyun in the KBS trendy drama 아가씨를 부탁해 (My Fair Lady), after his noteworthy performance in last year's surprise hit 과속스캔들 (Scandal Makers). When the director doesn't have a clue, even (seemingly) good child actors can fail. But then you're met with a peculiar case like Kim So-Young's 나무없는 산 (Treeless Mountain), and all your expectations are challenged.

I say challenged because Kim's use of her two leading child actresses, two non-professional girls (Kim Hee-Yeon and Kim Seong-Hee) she auditioned herself by touring schools in provincial Korea, is closer to Abbas Kiarostami's work with children in خانه دوست کجاست؟ (Where is My Friend's House?) and مشق شب (Homework), going beyond simple cinéma vérité trappings, and offering a view of the world colored by childlike instincts. Kim essentially gave a few pivotal lines of dialogue the kids would have to say, and then let them improvise, their spontaneity taking over. This of course led to several takes for every scene, and certain instances assuming a completely different mood than what the director originally intended, but it's a fascinating approach to filmmaking. Fascinating because, when it works, it offers you little moments of magical realism, where the simplicity and spontaneity on display - coupled with the complete absence of music - make for a much more striking emotional statement than any melodramatic histrionics would have ever done. Treeless Mountain might be the most immediate Korean film of the year, but its placid, observing approach makes it resonate on a much deeper level.

The story couldn't be simpler: two sisters are brought by their mother (indie mainstay Lee Su-Ah) to their Aunt's, as Mommy will go after her runaway husband in a seemingly futile attempt to put the pieces of this broken family back together. The only promise she makes to little Bin and Jin is that, once they've filled their little piggybank with coins, Mommy will come back. Obviously, Mommy is not coming back anytime soon, but even though the two girls keep waiting for her every single day at the bus stop, they don't abandon themselves in desperation the likes of which The Bard would immensely enjoy. They're actually rather pragmatic about it, solving Auntie's recklessly immature behavior (even feeding them is too much of a hassle, and a waste of money) by selling roasted grasshoppers (which are tastier than you might think) on the streets for 100 won a pop. The world of adults seems to have completely abandoned them, but they march on, candidly believing things will eventually get better. The nonchalantly playful look on their faces when they're brought to Grandma in the countryside is like a window into the mind of children, showing that they'll survive one way or another, and grow together even without the adults' supposedly mature shenanigans surrounding them.

As I said, quite fascinating. It's like watching an episode of 인간극장 (Human Theater), KBS' long-running documentary series, but without the annoyingly complacent voiceovers, the syrupy melodies suggesting mood and emotional reaction, and the vulture-like approach to filming someone else's misery. Kim's camera doesn't use realism to convey a specific sentiment, but sort of gives you the entire ordeal, an uncompressed sensory overload of various sentiments all mashed together, from which you will have to deduce your own conclusions. This refusal to go for cheap drama was also evident in her flawed but interesting debut 방황의 날들 (In Between Days), and perhaps comes from her roots as an artist, more than a director. Moving to the US at a very young age, Kim studied at the Art Institute of Chicago, where she met her husband (and producer of this film) Bradley Rust Gray. After a few shorts and experimental films she eventually debuted with a feature, but her work never banks on the traditional three-act canon. Yes, it's the trite, arthouse-friendly "slice of life" mentality, but the moments she observes are rendered with such disarming honesty (for better or worse) that they always make for eclectic and interesting filmmaking.

What I'm not so sure about, then, is whether she can overcome the limitations of such an approach. As I mentioned, when that spontaneity works, you'll witness truly bewitching moments of realism. But the path, the cinematic journey to get there is rather barren (hence the "treeless" of the title, ironically?), often insipid and a little too didactic. Kim does offer some input by going from closeup overload in the first half to an increasingly wider scope as the film goes on, perhaps suggesting that the girls' return to "nature" (the countryside) is their most favored habitat. But whether it's a case of true thematic consciousness, or merely something borne out of what the two girls were feeling on that special day of shooting, I don't know - Kim notoriously adapted her shooting schedule to the kind of mood the girls displayed. I'm not asking for particular dramatic statements, as that would only cheapen the impact of the film. But you'd think that with such extraordinary discoveries she's made (even if the two girls might never return to acting, who knows), she could have done a lot more than just film them toasting grasshoppers and fooling around. Yes, they're kids, and playing around and acting like children is what they do best. But there are times when that detached observation feels more like laziness than an inventive approach.

Still, Treeless Mountain is well worth watching, and proves that child acting can bring you film magic even without resorting to acting academies for children, greedy parents ready to ruin their offspring's career and adulthood for the sake of a fat paycheck, and over the top tearjerking mores. It's an answer, without a doubt. I'm just not so sure the question is all that enthralling to begin with...

RATING: 7

나무없는 산 (Treeless Mountain)
Director: 김소영 (Kim So-Young)
Screenplay: 김소영 (Kim So-Young)
Produced By: Soandbrad/Parts and Labor
Int'l Sales: Memento Films
89 Minutes, Super 16-to-35mm, Color
Release: 8/27/2009 (All)
CAST: 김성희 (Kim Seong-Hee), 김희연 (Kim Hee-Yeon), 이수아 (Lee Su-Ah), 김미향 (Kim Mi-Hyang), 박분탁 (Park Bun-Taek)