By Siddarth Puri

In this week's edition of dueling reviews, Siddarth Puri argues that No Regret is predictable, ineffective and worst of all, typical of the "queer film" genre that is lacking in originality these days.

I always watch gay dramatic films in hopes that they won't be predictable, cookie-cutter creations. Sadly, more often than not, I finish the movies yawning, anxiously fidgeting around my couch, and wondering why I keep giving them a chance. Leesong Hee-il's No Regret is yet another work that exhibits the predictability and histrionic quality that is becoming archetypical of queer "coming-of-age and finding love" films.

Set against the backdrop of contemporary Seoul, North Korea, the film recounts the story of Sumin (Lee Young-hoon), who isn't naked nearly enough, and Jaemin (Lee Han), whose nakedness did nothing for my drooping eyelids. The struggling Sumin leaves his countryside orphanage to study in Seoul, but eventually turns to working as a prostitute in a gay bar after being fired from his factory position (ironically by Jaemin). Jaemin is the closeted, engaged, privileged upper-class businessman, sheltered from the harsh realities of life outside his comfortable Seoul flat and office. His tender heart (and libido) goes out to Sumin after he is fired from the company. After tracking Sumin down to the gay bar and renting him out a number of times, Jaemin confesses his love to Sumin, whose brash and angry exterior masks an insecure little boy looking for love and acceptance. But he is too scared for love and immediately rejects Jaemin.

The film continues with the predictable plot developments: Jaemin gets belligerently drunk and stumbles into the gay bar, screaming and fighting everyone in order to see Sumin. Sumin finally succumbs to Jaemin's advances and accepts his offer to be his beloved. He leaves the brothel in order to pursue the seemingly happy, meaningful relationship. Their torrid love affair contains all the important elements of a queer dramatic cinema: steamy, sweaty sex with plenty of camera angles, overly dramatic scenes of arguing, and of course, the overarching predicament: what will happen when Jaemin has to get married to a woman?

So begins the real difficulties of their relationship and so continues the mind-numbing developments in the film. It's obvious throughout the film that both characters are struggling in order to accept themselves as gay men and understand their deep and passionate attraction to each other, yet the only time this manifests is during the sex scenes. There is little conversation throughout the movie, and the silence, while emotional and poignant, appears to be more powerful than the "important" conversations between the two. I would have been more moved if Hee-il had decided to make a silent film. The powerful body language of the characters only emphasized the inaneness of their conversations.

Throughout the whole film, Jaemin aggressively pursues Sumin. In one of their first conversations he tells Sumin he loves him, and Sumin, appearing bored, asks if that's all he can say after his years of education. In yet another scene when Sumin finally asks Jaemin what their relationship means to him if he's getting married, Jaemin lacks any coherent response, but rather walks out of the room, leaving Sumin (and the viewer) confused. All of a sudden the aggressor decides, without any comprehensible reason, to leave Sumin and forget their relationship.

But even though their dialogue was problematic and stagnant, what bothered me more was the manipulative insertion of violence and death in order to elicit emotional responses from the viewer. [Spoiler Alert] In a final scene of the movie, Sumin has decided to retaliate against Jaemin and bury him alive. As Sumin and a fellow prostitute start shoveling dirt in the grave where the gagged-and-bound Jaemin lies, I just waited for the moment Sumin would change his mind, shed a tear, and save his beloved. It happens exactly like that.

Hee-il's attempt to use violence as a tool for suspense is ineffective. The violence functions as filler entertainment throughout a film that is trying to highlight and reflect the dark and unhappy lives of gay men in contemporary Korea.

While the movie may be important from a sociological perspective in that it does underscore the precarious position of homosexuality and homosexual relationships in Korea, it fails to keep viewers intrigued, thoughtful, and curious.

For another perspective on No Regret, click here.

Published: Friday, August 8, 2008