Mother: “Anyone Can Murder”

Movie poster for Mother.
Movie poster for Mother.

I originally considered writing about the Oscars this week since they took place on Sunday, and since I wrote about my opinions on the Best Picture nominees in my last post. However, I’ve spoken about what happened so much in the last few days that I no longer have the energy to describe how exasperating the entire ceremony was to watch. After all of the chaos leading up to and during the Oscars, I found what I needed most was a chance to cleanse my palate with a movie I knew was going to be great.

With that being said, this week, I watched Bong Joon-ho‘s 2009 crime drama Mother. Most of you are probably familiar with Bong due to his 2019 Best-Picture-winning film Parasite. This is my fourth Bong film, and I truly have to say: nobody does murder like Bong Joon-ho!

The film is about a mother (Kim Hye-ja) and her mentally disabled son Yoon Do-joon (Won Bin). One day, a young schoolgirl named Moon Ah-jung’s (Mun Hee-ra) body is found draped off the side of the roof of an abandoned building and the evidence points the cops to Do-joon. With Do-joon in jail, his mother sets off on the task of proving her son innocent.

I was struck by the decision to leave the main character unnamed. Throughout the entire 2-hour 9-minute runtime of the film, Kim’s character is only ever referred to directly as “eomma” (“mother”) by Do-joon. She is a mother first, and everything-else second. Motherhood is of the utmost priority to her. She dotes on Do-joon, breaking his food into smaller bites, sleeping alongside him, comforting him, and protecting him from any and every kind of danger, even himself.

The film opens in a field of long yellow grass. The air is a little dense and the fog tints the atmosphere blue. In the center of the shot stands mother. As the credits begin to roll over the shot, music starts to play, and she begins dancing while sometimes staring directly into the camera. At times during the dance, she seems to be burdened and in pain, and at others, she seems passive, peaceful almost. I describe this scene in such detail because I truly believe this is one of my favorite opening scenes ever.

Kim Hye-ja as the titular mother in the opening scene of Mother.
Kim Hye-ja as the titular mother in the opening scene of Mother.

It’s hard to review this film without giving away too much about the big question mark that is placed at the center of it. All I can say is that Mother is guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat, as it kept me on mine. Bong has such a talent for making movies that consume you with their feelings of impending doom.

In Mother, the titular mother does everything she can to prove her son’s innocence. And when that might not be enough, she crosses lines she never thought she would cross. The incomparable Bong Joon-ho brilliantly toys with the answer to the question that lies at the heart of this movie: how strong is a mother’s love?

Although Mother isn’t my favorite Bong Joon-ho film (Memories of Murder claims that title), I still found it to be a haunting and beautifully made film. For those of you whose interest has been piqued by this review, I highly recommend watching this film as it is currently streaming on Hulu. And for those who are not fully convinced, I suggest you at least see the opening scene that I am so obsessed with.

4 stars out of 5.

The title card of Mother.
The title card of Mother.

 

The Making of a Monster: The Cremator

Movie poster for The Cremator.
Movie poster for The Cremator.

With midterms and other large projects coming to a close, I decided to celebrate by once again going to the arts and media section of the library. Walking through the shelves and shelves of movies, most of which I’ve never heard of, has become a comforting and rewarding activity for me here at Penn State. Sometimes, I like to test my chances by picking a random film from my 2,000+ long watchlist of movies and seeing if the library has the random pick. This week, I landed on a film called The Cremator, and thankfully it was sitting right on the shelf in front of me.

The Cremator, or Spalovač Mrtvol, is a 1969 Czech film directed by Juraj Herz. The film, based on the book of the same name, is about a manager of a crematorium, Karel Kopfrkingl (Rudolf Hrušínský), with megalomanic tendencies and an unnatural fondness for death and is set in Prague in the 1930s.

Since I went into the film with no knowledge as to what it was about, Kopfrkingl appeared to be a sweet man to me at first. He constantly lovingly addresses his family and wife Lakmé (Vlasta Chramostová) and appears to be staying positive despite working a grueling job at the crematorium. However, I soon realized that I was wrong, very very VERY wrong, about him and that he is actually a psychopath who only really loves two things: himself, and his ability to “save” people by cremating them and letting their souls reach the ether (“liberation through incineration”).

The film hinges on Kopfrkingl’s deranged belief that cremation, and death in general, is a form of savior. Having this belief and working at a crematorium gives him a sense of great power and purpose. This hunger for power mirrors the political backdrop as Nazism enters the borderlines of the Czech Republic. Nazism poses a way for Kopfrkingl to further climb the social ladder, and possibly “save” more people than ever before, turning him into an absolute monster to the audience, but a godly priest-like figure to himself.

A quote from The Cremator.
A quote from The Cremator.

Although it may sound uninteresting to hear, some of my favorite parts of the movie were the technical aspects such as the cinematography and the editing. The film is shot in black and white on 35 mm film and is hypnotizing to look at. Most of the film is shot with an extremely wide lens, making many of the shots feel distorted, giving the movie an off-kilter air to it. The editing is some of the best I’ve seen in my life. What I really loved about it is that many of the scenes in the movie are written to start off in one setting and end in another, giving the film a disorienting and surrealist effect. But while it can be easy to write a movie to be this way, it is extremely difficult to actually pull it off. Jaromír Janáček, the editor, seamlessly and fluidly weaves the scenes together, never letting the audience get too comfortable with where things are at.

The Cremator was widely controversial and even banned in many countries for a very long time before it came to be the darkly humorous iconoclastic masterpiece that it is considered to be today. I feel as though this movie offers a lot more to discuss than what I am able to cover in this review (the innumerable close-ups of Hrušínský’s face to the point where looking at him gives me chills, the inclusion/symbolism of eroticism, the meaning of the recurring woman in black, the looping operatic music, the film’s implications and the beginning of the Czech new wave, etc., etc., etc.). So, if anyone’s interested in watching the movie after reading my rambling review and description, please do, and perhaps we can discuss all the intricacies to this grotesque and clever movie. And if not, I highly encourage you to at least watch the trailer to get even the slightest glimpse at what The Cremator has to offer.

I predict that I will be thinking about this for quite a while. 4 stars out of 5.

The Sin, the Glitter, and the Wickedness of Klute

1971 movie poster for Klute.

For my first film review on my new blog, I decided to watch and review a film I’ve been meaning to see for quite a while now, a 1971 neo-noir film called Klute. The film is directed by Alan J. Pakula who is most widely known for directing the film that makes every English teacher swoon for Gregory Peck (To Kill a Mockingbird). Klute follows a private detective named John Klute (Donald Sutherland) trying to solve the mystery of a missing friend, and a New York call girl named Bree Daniels (Jane Fonda) who gets wrapped up in all of the fall out.

The film first caught my eye when I heard that the lovely and ever-graceful Jane Fonda played the female lead in the film. I was even more enticed to watch it after learning that it fell into the neo-noir genre, which can be defined as any film that takes a modern approach to classic style of old-Hollywood gothic mysteries. With these two things in mind, I had pretty high expectations going into the movie.

Unfortunately, Klute ended up being one of those movies I thought I would enjoy more than I really did. Technically speaking, Klute is actually a great movie. It features beautiful cinematography, an eerie yet alluring score, and a plot that twists and turns and takes the audience on a wild ride. However, to me, these separate technical feats did not come together to create a film with real character.

Donald Sutherland and Jane Fonda in Klute.

Which is definitely ironic because while I say this, I simultaneously acknowledge the fact that my favorite part of this film was hands-down the main character. Not the titular main character, but the character of Bree Daniels. Until now, I had yet to come across a neo-noir, especially one from the 70s, that pays such close attention to the main female character. Unlike in other films from the time and genre, Klute portrays a complex and fully-formed woman, who although is a sex worker, never becomes solely an object of desire. In fact, the film is structured so that the audience learns more about Bree than we ever do about Klute himself.

Klute therapist scene.

Through scenes like the ones where Bree speaks to her therapist, we are able to see her be vulnerable and empathize with her on a level which we might not have been able to do if she was just depicted as Klute’s two-dimensional love interest. All of this is only elevated by Jane Fonda’s raw and intricate performance as a lonely, self-destructive, and paranoid woman seeking control over her life through sex.

All of this being said, there were still times when I felt as though I was waiting for the minutes to pass, and for the plot to progress. While I usually like the meandering journey of neo-noir mysteries, even Jane Fonda’s magnetic performance couldn’t save Klute from leaving me a bit bored from time to time. However, the sin, the glitter, and the wickedness of it all earn it a strong 3.5 stars out of 5.