The Isle (Seom, 2000)

Kim Ki-Duk

Korea

Korea 85 mins, color, Korean (English subtitles)

This is the film that caused a scandal when it was released in Korea, that sent people packing at its Venice premiere, and that reportedly induced others to projectile vomit during particularly sick scenes. At the Korean Film Festival in NYC this year, there wasn't any throwing up (as far as I could tell) but there was a lot of screaming, recoiling in horror, and some walking out. Even with my generally hardened senses, usually impervious to gore, guts, blood, and mayhem, I couldn't help but wince several times. Sick, slick, repulsive, and magnetic, THE ISLE should be seen for the suspense, beautiful scenery, and the unspeakable tension lurking underneath the depraved exterior. The accomplishment of the director is even more remarkable when one considers the fact that the main character never utters a single word!

Imagine a beautiful isolated lake with small huts floating in it. The proprietor of this establishment is a stunning, but elusive and pensive, woman (Suh Jung), who ferries visitors to and from and supplies them with their necessities, which include sex, all without ever talking to them. One day, a reclusive man (Cho Jae-Hyun) arrives and takes up residence in one of the huts. We learn that he is on the run from the law for murdering his wife and her lover. Having reached the end of the road, he intends to kill himself. The silent woman pricks him, which turns out to be the beginning of a most sordid and twisted co-dependency (some call it "love") affair between the two.

Such a thing cannot end well, either for the "couple" or for strangers who unwittingly become involved in their "romance." Aside from somewhat tasteless moments, like filming people defecating, that do not contribute to the story (but do contribute to the general malaise and faint disgust that accompanies the film), Kim Ki-Duk traverses the fragile territory well. Although I am not sure what insane people do "in real life," the action, the choices, and the outcomes in THE ISLE seemed to flow effortlessly, albeit bizarrely. If there ever was a logical film on the lunatic fringe, this was it.

Strangely enough, the imagery is as profound as it is disturbing, for unlike many a gore film that spills guts with no thought of metaphor, the protagonists here rip their gizzards and privates out in most gruesome fashion to provide the philosophical undercurrent of the story. A depravity served in the best art-house tradition, THE ISLE is unlike any other Korean film you will ever see. Heck, it is unlike most films you ever see, period.

August 21, 2001.

(Image courtesy of Subway Cinema)