[K-FILM REVIEWS] 반두비 (Bandhobi)

Even great philosophers contradict themselves. For a while anyway.

Take Aristotle and his φιλíα (philia), often translated as "friendship," but in reality a much broader concept encompassing several kinds of affinity, emotional and whatnot. Contradicting because of his stance on the sublimity of self-sufficient life, a divine state of mind where paraphernalia like friends should be nothing but a superfluous whim. Sure enough, after the kind of philosophical contortions only masters like him could display, he came to a rather convenient conclusion, giving credibility to both his original claims and his new concept of philia: that to be truly happy, you need excellent friends, as they in some ways mirror your own existence, as a sort of alternate ego detached from your persona, but acting along very similar wavelenghts. Aristotle's philia is particularly interesting when you sit down and look at how he categorized its layers, the various masks friendship can assume on the way to sublimity. Friendship of convenience, of pleasure, and of, well, sublimity indeed. Most of world diplomacy seems to hover in between the former two - a fragile, thin line which can break any time a certain material and/or philosophical give and take balance is broken. Look at history, and that suspicion will be confirmed more than once. After all, the ancient Korean kingdoms of Baekje and Shilla were best friends one week, foes of a lifetime going after each other's slatternly pates the week after. Ain't humanity a fun beast.

But then you wonder. What does friendship really mean? Seriously, that is. Is it something encompassing the interpersonal triptych Aristotle's philia suggested, a beast with three heads, two of which can be often quite ugly? Or maybe there's no need to make it such a complicated notion. Think of how the Bangla language deals with it, for instance. It's just বান্ধবী (Bandhobi) for them. Strictly speaking, bandhobi is a তৎসম (tôtshômo, word borrowed straight from the Sanskrit, from which Bangla derives) indicating an intimate female companion, with বন্ধু (bondhu) as its male counterpart, from the Sanskrit bandhu. If you get down to linguistics, it's a tad more complicated than simply translating it as "friend," but you could certainly hazard a guess on its intrinsic meaning. Bangladesh's own version of friend, then, becomes that supreme state, where convenience, pleasure and sublimity all combine into an ethereal state of mind. A place of peace, love, and mutual understanding. Maybe that's the reason why indie darling Shin Dong-Il used this word as the title of his latest film, 반두비 (Bandhobi).

2009 has certainly marked independent cinema's first serious advance into the collective psyche of Korean moviegoers. It's not a revolution by any means, and even the box office exploits of megahit documentary 워낭소리 (Old Partner) sort of reek of the same "city slicker syndrome" which made 2002's 집으로... (The Way Home) a tad "salty" to digest. But there's no denying that the amazing (and deserved) success of 똥파리 (Breathless) and good results by other indie works like 소명 (Calling) and the brilliant 낮술 (Daytime Drinking) have changed things for the better, as the indie sector's eternal uphill battle to gain some form of recognition now seems like a slightly more feasible challenge, especially considering the advent of easily accessible VOD services (whereas in the past you were forced to drive to one of the few theaters showing those films, or pray for luck at the occasional festival). What is still perplexing, then, is the cold shoulder treatment someone like Shin Dong-Il has to endure, considering the current political atmosphere - or better, the energetic anti-establishment passion shown by many members of the "candlelight generation." That's because Shin's latest three works exhibit exactly the same kind of creative, pungent satire against the establishment as the one adorning the threads of Daum's Agora, DC Inside and many other cultural icons of this Internet-crazed nation.

Why this is important in cinematic terms is easier felt firsthand than explained, but I'd venture to suggest that people like Shin are this generation's equivalent of the Park Gwang-Soo and Jang Sun-Woo of yesteryear. That is, people making important social protest films, but presenting their point of view in a rather tangential, ironic and almost subliminal way. What the makers of films like 칠수와 만수 (Chilsu & Mansu) and 그들도 우리처럼 (Black Republic) had to deal with at the time was a very explicitly repressive and violent regime, whereas the current junta's favorite method of oppression is something which hits you indirectly, almost invisibly, sneaking from the shadows like a poisonous snake. Evidently, even cinema's response to such social matters has become subtler, more indirect, often becoming the sum of various narrative hints creating a very pungent thematic consciousness. This has been the case for the other two installments of Shin's self-christened "관계 3부작 (Trilogy of Relationships)," namely 방문자 (Host & Guest) and the excellent 나의 친구, 그의 아내 (My Friend and His Wife), but it's particularly true for his latest work, his most critical and satirical to date, yet the least explicit.

Maybe explicit is not even the right term. After all, if you pay attention to the little details, then you'll be inundated by a certain nefarious presence and all the acolytes gravitating around it. For instance, the English Academy protagonist Min-Seo so ardently wishes to frequent is emphatically entitled "MB English Academy" - the most pressing question the native English teacher can come up with being his wondering why many Korean people associate a certain rodent with the image of their commander-in-chief. Also, one of the first things our Kyunghyang Shinmun-reading, candlelight badge-carrying Min-Seo notices at the perpetrator's house (the man who refuses to pay one year's worth of salary to her newfound friend, Bangladeshi migrant worker Karim) is the fact that he happens to read "that" newspaper. I'll let you imagine which one. "If you keep reading trash like this, it's no surprise you'd act like a beast. When will you become a decent person?" Wow...

All this is thrown in the narrative cauldron, and it certainly sticks out, particularly if you belong to one of the two extremes (those who will giggle non-stop at all the creative ways used by Shin to criticize the government and its purveyors on one side, and those who will be offended and/or disgusted by it on the other). But in quintessential narrative terms, those are just ancillary elements which embellish the main issue - the most topical "relationship" in all of modern Korean society, Koreans' love-hate relationship with foreigners, now hitting the all important seven digits amongst legal immigrants, not to mention the illegal ones. Ultra-nationalists like to trump up the 단일민족 (ethnic homogeneity) card as the inevitable raison d'etre for their sometimes not too thinly veiled vitriol and/or complacency directed at the "wegukin" tribe. But that concept starts to lose steam once you consider from what kind of ethnic fabric today's Koreans came - even if you bring up "pure" Shilla stock, many historians will throw at you the possibility of Shilla being founded by people of Xiongnu descent, for instance.

What is truly interesting is the number of recent features (mostly independent) devoted to this subject matter - from this film to Kim Dong-Hyun's curious 처음 만난 사람들 (Hello Stranger), in which a North Korean defector meets a Vietnamese migrant worker; but also Shim Sang-Guk's 로니를 찾아서 (Where is Ronny), which happens to star Bangladeshi film activist and broadcaster Mahbub Alam just like Bandhobi. Interesting not only because of the novelty factor, but for the new and improved (?) outlook on the subject. If you look at TV's reaction to this matter, we're still firmly planted in the 80s, what with insufferable abominations like 미녀들의 수다 (Chit-chat of Beautiful Ladies), or even the insanely pretty 탐나는 도다 (Tamna The Island), which might be diverting but still oozes those annoying "lookee here, it's a blue-eyed blond monster from the planet weguk" vibes from the sweet old Fifth Republic (although, well, being set in the mid Joseon dynasty, the idea would be quite realistic). But then I wonder, is what we see in Bandhobi really that progressive? Other than the simple idea of a Korean minor dating a South Asian migrant worker, that is.

Judging that is not so simple. On one hand, the film might be accused of being politically correct. After all, Karim is portrayed as the all too mature, gentle and well meaning foreign migrant worker who crosses valleys and oceans to fulfill his Korean dream and find happiness, meeting a hostile and repressive social reality instead. Fair enough. But then that sort of misses the point. Shin's films have indeed always been about relationships, but never in the sense that he would observe both ends of the spectrum. It's always been about the protagonist's reaction to a certain social player breaking against norm and entering his social sphere, hence forming a relationship. So in this case the relationship between a migrant worker and a Korean minor is not the issue, because Karim is only a catalyst, a narrative vehicle used to talk about Korean society's take on the subject, the only difference being that he has more space to move than the aforementioned "ancillary" narrative elements. This also explains the rather abrupt and unconvincing way in which Min-Seo and Karim's relationship develops.

Their blossoming friendship feels like a sort of inevitable conclusion, brought together by the necessity of delivering the film's message, which in turn might hurt the film for some. But, on the other hand, the major strength of Bandhobi is presenting a very realistic portrayal of Korea's candlelight generation, millions of impressionable youngsters who react passionately to the current social climate (much more so than their 1990s counterpart), but inevitably still show their age when dealing with such matters - which after all is exactly what happened during the mad cow protests and subsequent media tumult. Min-Seo is yes a very energetic and independent spirit, but there's always a certain lack of maturity and experience guiding her actions. For instance, she finds on her own that learning English is a necessity at her age, so instead of beating around the bush with menial part-time jobs to fund her English cram school "dreams," she goes straight for the quickest money - working at a so-called 대딸방 ("sports massage" parlors where ladies please older men via certain hand gestures. No sex involved. In theory). After inviting Karim home to see her butterfly collection, she thinks of what those 'older men" generally find pleasant, connects the dots and.... well. It's the handjob of doom which sent all rating boards insane and screaming for the closest pair of scissors.

Yet, all those sparks of immaturity and impulsive behavior end up making sense in the great scheme of things, painting quite the interesting portrayal of today's youth. They know what they want, and have a much stronger sense of community and world awareness than their 1990s counterpart, but then it's only in theory, and a concept riddled with contradictions and superficial notions. For instance, Min-Seo doesn't see Karim as a problematic figure, the "foreign monster who steals our jobs and rapes our daughters" her older, fellow countrymen point him as. But then she wonders how he (a Muslim) could ever refuse to eat something as tasty as pork meat - his retort is just as brilliant, wondering why she never makes full use of her beautiful language, always "cutting at the end" (as in not using the deferential tone). She carries that candlelight badge, reads Korea's most progressive newspaper and always asks momma for one round of that tasty, insanely expensive barbecued Korean beef, but then can't wait to frequent the academy built by the hands which fed her the same mad cow she despises, hoping to pay its tuition via the fruit of her, ahem, handiwork. She is irreverent, energetic, opinionated and a tad shallow. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

You sometimes get the feeling that Shin is trying to fill too many eggs into one basket, but the sardonic, breezy atmosphere of it all and the underlying thematic consciousness always seem to strike a weird, charming balance. But I doubt it would have worked as well without Baek Jin-Hee. Shin has been known for discovering great talent, first Kang Ji-Hwan and later Park Hee-Soon, but Baek might just be his greatest discovery yet. Part Kim Byeol and part Im Soo-Jung in the looks department, the energetic and spunky attitude of an early Bae Doo-Na in terms of screen presence, and already significant range despite her young age. She just ravages everyone in her way with her charisma and electric charm, conveying that strange, conflicting mix of maturity and superficiality in a perfect way. The two thousand odd tickets the film sold might not allow her the chance, and she might end up becoming a darling of the indies a la Im Ji-Gyu or Seo Young-Joo, but this is the most promising young talent since Jung Yoo-Mi and TV's new teenager sensation, Shim Eun-Kyung. Hopefully casting directors will notice, one way or another.

I guess the only real sad note about this little eclectic gem, aside from its predictably dismal performance at the box office, is that the ratings board stamped it with a 18 and over "scarlet letter." You'd think the two scenes involving Min-Seo's "handiwork" (not really explicit per se, just a little "awkward") caused this, but then the Jeonju International Film Festival showed the same cut with a 12 and over rating (the rating boards for festivals are clearly different). So you wonder, did someone from that pretty hill colored in blue voice their grievances over the film's portrayal of Koreans' beloved and esteemed leader, forcing a film who wished to speak to the younger generation first and foremost to only wink at the adults, turning this into a preaching to the choir kind of event? And what is more interesting, did all the egregious pundits from the progressive sphere, including those who rained insults down Shim Hyung-Rae's latest "tour de force," flock to the theaters to watch one of this year's most progressive films? Or did they opt for the much safer, in many ways conservative charms of 해운대 (Haeundae)'s tsunami of insipid water? Then again, that Bandhobi they so egregiously champion might just be the lamentable offspring of one of Aristotle's many philosophical contortions. Convenience and pleasure, man's best friends.....

RATING: 7.5

반두비 (Bandhobi)
Director: 신동일 (Shin Dong-Il)
Screenplay: 신동일 (Shin Dong-Il), 이창원 (Lee Chang-Won)
D.P.: 박종철 (Park Jong-Cheol)
Music: 김종근 (Kim Jong-Geun)
Produced by: Biashin Pictures, Cinema Dal, Bandhobi Production Committee
Int'l Sales: Indiestory
107 Minutes, 35mm 1.85:1 Color
Release: 06/25/2009 (18 and Over)
CAST: 백진희 (Baek Jin-Hee), Mahbub Alam Pollob, 이일화 (Lee Il-Hwa), 박혁권 (Park Hyuk-Kwon)