Chunhyang (2000)
Im Kwon-Taek
Korea
120 mins, color, Korean (English subtitles)
Unless one is attuned to the sensibility of pansori, seeing this film may be a troublesome experience, especially if one has low tolerance for music and expression that has nothing in common with Western style. Pansori is a stylized form of narration, in which a single singer chants the story, sometimes accompanied by a drummer, who keeps the beat and interjects exclamations. In some respects pansori is similar to Japanese Noh theater, especially in the highly expressive delivery of the story. The singing is hoarse, seems almost painful at times, and is certainly unlike anything the average Western ear ever hears. IM Kwon-Taek has chosen a highly unusual symbiosis of modern cinema and pansori Almost the entire story is sung by Cho Sang-Hyun, and even the most dramatically wrenching moments are stylized further by the voice-over chanting. Although I cannot claim the requisite awareness, I liked the approach very much and my biggest regret was not understanding a single word of Korean. My remark in the first sentence is primarily a product of several people in attendance, who clearly did not appreciate the nontraditional film-making. The narrative keeps cutting back and forth between the story and the pansori performance. It is not distracting, and showing the faces of the audience enhances the pathos of the tale.
The story of CHUNHYANG is a popular Korean tale of enduring love, sacrifice, and romantic Confucianism. Despite appearances to the contrary, it will probably outrage most modern women, especially in this part of the world (and perhaps, a good portion of men too). Why? Because it is essentially an affirmation of an old Confucian theme: that women, lower than dirt, can achieve greatness through suffering for the sake of their (greater) husbands. One can certainly view the film this way, and end up feeling a sense of revulsion despite the happy ending. Or, one could bow in stunned silence at the force with which the heroine affirms her right to love but a single man (although the weakling bastard did not deserve it).
One day during the 18th century, in the Korean town of Namwon, the governor's young son Mongyong Lee (Cho Seung-Woo) decides to go sightseeing. During his trip, he spots the beautiful Chunhyang (Lee Hyo-Jeong) on a swing in the forest. It is a love at first sight, and soon the two are married in secret and the young scholar is having the time of his life, gallivanting with his amorous young wife. The only problem is that he is the son of a high-ranking noble, and she is the daughter of a courtesan. The class gulf between them is unbridgeable (hence the secrecy). Their happy state soon comes crashing down when Mongyong's father is promoted and has to move to Seoul. Taking Chunhyang with his family is out of the question, so Mongyong decides to leave her in Namwon for several years until he can pass the state exam and "send a royal palanquin" for her. Chunhyang's bitter remark that she hopes she won't be an old hag when that happens is even more poignant because when she pledges to wait for him, she does so with the full knowledge that it might be years before she lays eyes on her husband again.
The Lee family moves to Seoul, and the new governor Byun Hakdo (Lee Jung-Hun) arrives to take control of the town. He is a cruel and ruthless ruler, with penchant for courtesans. Byun immediately summons Chunhyang and orders her to "service", which she flatly refuses, citing the fact that she is neither a courtesan, nor an available women (being married and all). Byun sneers at her and orders her flogged. After every ripping strike, she hurls admonitions at the sadistic torturer, counting the strokes until she faints. Having been unable to break her resolve, Byun sentences her to death for treason (i.e. refusing to sleep with the big dog). Fortunately, Mongyang, who has passed the exams with distinction and has become the King's envoy, arrives in the nick of time to save his wife (and arrest all the oppressors, who have taxed the peasants too heavily, stole rice, and behaved in various unenlightened ways, contrary to the paternal despotism advocated by Confucius and the King). I have to say that this was one of the many occasions that Mongyong was truly irritating: not only did he torture his wife by dragging her out and questioning her before revealing his true identity (the slimy toad! that's after she had spent the night in prison, preparing to die), but his remark to Byun about Chunhyang wanting to be human was barbarous. She was the only human being in the story anyway.
Although not bad, the film is not a masterpiece regardless of what one might have heard. The story, although beautiful and moving, is somewhat marred by the "happily ever after" ending (despite the grave warnings of the pansori singer at the conclusion of the performance). I have railed against this elsewhere, so I will not repeat it again. Granted, it works as a fairy tale, so one should not gripe about it too much. What really destroyed most of the joy for me, was the director's insistence on casting Chunhyang's desperate resistance in class terms. In other words, according to this interpretation, it was more than the love and strength of a wife, it was the "desire of the lowly to be human," to paraphrase a remark by Mongyong. Maybe, but then maybe not. I would much rather see the stoic suffering and moral triumph of a woman than the artificial class struggle by the oppressed. It is probably my bias from having spent my youth in a totalitarian country, but I think the assessment is fair.
In terms of cinematic achievement, CHUNHYANG is mesmerizing, but is also notably flawed. It seems that IM Kwon-Taek had Western audiences in mind when he made this film. I could discern too much Hollywood-isms, and most of them made the film worse. Some of the scenes supposed to invoke the feeling of romantic love between the two main characters were insipid despite the enchanting colors (e.g. the roll in the autumn leaves). The lovemaking was without passion. Lee and Cho did not have chemistry between them, and although Lee is exquisite and very talented, I did not care much for Cho's character, and perhaps even less for the actor. There are some truly great moments, which make the film definitely worth seeing, I just wish the director had brought about the realization of its full potential.
May 3, 2001. BLS