By Justin Jimenez
In this week's edition of dueling reviews, Justin Jimenez admires Leesong Hee-Il's feature debut No Regret for its quiet sense of dignity and drama.
Earlier this year, Korea held its 9th annual gay pride parade in Seoul, complete with floats, colorful costumes, and an abundance of amused spectators. When Seoul hosted its first pride parade years ago, however, the atmosphere was not as festive. Many participants chose to wear brown paper bags over the heads to conceal their identities and met with angry yells from disgusted onlookers. Still today, a good number of parade participants wear red ribbons to signal to photographers that they do not want their photos taken.
In general, homosexuality in Korean society is taboo and rarely discussed. For the most part, such attitudes have permeated Korean media and pop culture. With the exception of the successful The King and the Clown, few Korean films have come near the touchy issue of homosexuality.
It's in this context that independent director Leesong Hee-Il fills in a major gap with his feature film debut No Regret, an expansion of his earlier short film, Good Romance. Heralded as Korea's first openly gay filmmaker, his film has likewise been referred to as "the first true gay film in Korean cinema." Far from having a paper bag over its head, No Regret is a daring, emotional, and honest glimpse into gay life in Korea.
The film's story of forbidden love centers on Sumin (Lee Young-Hoon) and Jaemin (Lee Han), two young men on opposite ends of the socioeconomic spectrum: the former is an openly gay orphan from the countryside, while the latter is a closeted wealthy businessman from the city. Forced to leave his orphanage upon reaching legal age, Sumin moves to Seoul to study art, but must simultaneously work odd jobs in order to support himself. He first meets Jaemin when he is hired to take the businessman home after a night of drinking.
Things take a turn for the worse when Sumin loses his job at a factory that, coincidentally, Jamein's father owned. In desperation, he takes up a job as a prostitute at X Large, a "host bar." Jaemin manages to track him down at the bar and hires him to again be his escort for the night, though this time for more intimate purposes. While Sumin resists Jaemin's infatuated advances at first, he soon falls in love with Jaemin as well. As their relationship progresses, the two face a complex and tumultuous journey, alternating between passion and heartache. However, trapped between the expectations of his conservative family and his love for Sumin, Jaemin is forced to make a choice between the two.
No Regret, in essence, is a standard Korean melodrama. Though many discredit this mode of Korean cinema and television, in No Regret it is perhaps something to be embraced. The stigmas that gay men in Korea -- and in general -- face are strong, and the film's melodramatic approach is a fitting way to reflect that struggle. The form allows Leesong to highlight Jaemin and Sumin's turbulent emotions, which are ultimately the film's focal point. As the two cycle between fending off their inner demons and trying to express their love for one another despite societal expectations, the other elements of the movie -- from the cinematography to the pacing -- complement their oscillating relationship. The film's tone vividly switches between love and hate, light and dark, as in the scene where Sumin finally reciprocates Jaemin's affection -- a juncture in the film bounded by a violent argument and a passionate (and explicit) sex scene.
In order to accurately portray the gay experience in Korea, which, as in many other places, is stigmatized, hidden, and conflicting, Leesong portrays the characters as genuine people and not flamboyant homosexual caricatures. Through actors Lee Han and Lee Young-Hoon, he is successful in creating convincing characters with depth and emotion. In one scene, the two share an affectionate moment in Sumin's bed, exchanging barely audible whispers in the early morning with such intimacy that it may be difficult to believe that both actors are heterosexual. Yet, at the same time, Jaemin and Sumin have nothing particularly "gay" about them -- they are simply two men who genuinely love one another. Without the usual gay stereotypes to distract the audience, the lead characters' relationship is able to come to the forefront of the film. Their chemistry is bold and emotionally intense, their intimate moments and fights feel real and impassioned. This chemistry is ultimately the thread that holds the film together -- even through the strange plot twists near the end.
No Regret's fluid visuals and polished cinematography (incredible given the US$100,000 budget) perfectly supplement the actors' performances. Leesong's adept ability at visual storytelling intensifies the characters' emotions, continuing to express their thoughts even after they stop speaking. After a particularly heart-wrenching series of events, Sumin quietly sobs in the backseat of a car, enveloped by Seoul's yellow city lights, reminding the audience of an earlier moment in the film when Sumin warns a young friend never to trust anyone in Seoul. Here, these visual devices artfully illustrate Sumin's isolation -- and the isolation of people like him -- in Korea.
In the face of the stigmas that Korea's gay community must deal with, No Regret stands as an important cinematic voice for their experiences. Members of this community may still feel the need to conceal their own personal identities, but Leesong's film proudly takes off its own red ribbon and brown paper bag, skillfully and realistically providing audiences with an insightful and sincere look into this hidden part of Korean society.
For another perspective on No Regret, click here.
Published: Friday, August 8, 2008
