[K-FILMS ON DVD] 무영검 (Shadowless Sword) - Part 1

Their lifestyle and acceptance underwent many changes, from being considered simple thugs defying the law, to heroes of the people, in a certain romantic sense. By the Ming Dynasty (1368~1644), the xia joined other 'rejects of society' (monks, peddlers, beggars, rebels) in what became known as 江湖 (Jiang Hu, 강호 in Korean). Literally meaning 'river and lakes', the term referred to that fictional underworld populated by people like the xia, in an increasingly popular genre of literature, where their way of life would be accepted and celebrated, unlike what happened in the law-abiding, 'normal' society. Those errant swordsmen had been featured in novels ever since the classic 水浒传 (The Water Margin), but the roots of these new 'errant swordsman' novels started from the Tang Dynasty (618~907). A mix of supernatural stories mixed with heroic martial arts characters, those 传奇 (quanqi, legendary) novels set the initial stages for the blossoming of this new genre which influenced both the Ming and Qing Dynasties: the world of 武俠 (wuxia) novels was born, combining martial arts with stories of xia, errant swordsmen.

The first full-fledged Wuxia novels, like 施公案奇闻 (Shi Gong's Strange Case) were mostly works appealing to the mainstream only, because of their tendency to criticize the government (the reason why many of those earlier works have been lost). But although Wuxia novels remained popular for centuries, it took until the 20th Century to see a new development in the genre, with the new xia breaking from Confucian tradition and becoming icons of individualism and freedom. This revolution, born out of the May 4th (1919) movement, forced the government to take active measures against the proliferation of Wuxia literature (and the early Wuxia films, around the mid 20s), which sent the genre into a crisis. After WWII, a revival began with two distinct groups forming in the Wuxia world: Northern and Southern. The Beijing-based Northern school was more traditional and realistic, the Southern (based in Shanghai) more influenced by Western literature, and closer to pulp sensibilities. But the real Golden Age of Wuxia came in the 50s, when legendary artists like Louis Cha (Jinyong) and Gu Long were in their prime.

Born in 1924, Jinyong quickly became the most important Wuxia novelist in the country, with over a dozen landmark works in a 20 year span. The Taiwan-based, HK born Gu Long also quickly began rising the ranks as one of the most illustrious writers of the period, and many of the two writers' works have been the foundation of Wuxia films by the Shaw Brothers. From the anti-Confucian slant of the 30s to the more operatic and ethically rigid films of the 50s, the 武俠片 (Wuxia Pian, Wuxia Film) of the 60s completely changed the cards, with the arrival of entries by King Hu, Chor Yuen and of course Chang Cheh. While all three had distinctive styles (Hu's films were closer to arthouse sensibilities, Chang's were very violent and full of machismo, and Chor Yuen offered the more intriguing and exciting ones, often adapted from Gu Long novels), the xia in their films had become much more complex than their early counterparts, with conflicting emotions and even flaws.

One of the major reasons why Wuxia novels became popular in Korea, especially Jinyong's work, was their sense of attachment to their nation and people. Mirroring in certain ways Korea's own history, many of Jinyong's novels were set in periods when China had to fight off assaults from the North from Mongols, Manchus, and of course Khitan. The first examples of Chinese Wuxia novels in Korea started appearing in the 60s, when Taiwanese writers would often translate works serialized in major newspapers. Although Korea never really had 'proper' Wuxia novels before the 70s, one of the secrets of the genre's success in the country was its similarity with 의적소설, novels featuring chivalrous thieves and scoundrels fighting for the people (called 義賊小說, yizei xiaoshuo, in Chinese). Some of those novels, like the stories of Hong Gil-Dong, Im Kkeok-Jung or the classic 장길산 (Jang Gil-San) have made their way on the big and small screen more than once.

Of course at the beginning the genre had to struggle, but homegrown Wuxia novels started to emerge around the end of the 70s, until Jinyong and all the other major Chinese writers' works started to be translated by the mid 80s. While Wuxia literature in Korea always enjoyed a certain popularity even up to today, Wuxia films -- called 무협 (Muhyeop, same meaning as Wuxia, although the Korean 협/hyeop is not as significant as Xia is in Chinese culture, as it simply means being brave -- from the verb 호협하다/Hohyeophada) in their Korean incarnation -- always had to struggle. Although 사극 (Sageuk, Historical Dramas) always enjoyed popularity, Korean viewers' predilection for more realistic approaches to storytelling often closed the door to the fantasy elements so frequent in Wuxia films. If the genre exists at all in Korea today though, we only have one thing to thank: two tin cans.

Choi In-Gyu's 자유만세 (Hurrah For Freedom) obviously meant a lot for Korean Cinema, but it had special meaning for a young and brilliant hopeful going by the name of Jung Chang-Hwa. With the industry slowly planting its foothold after liberation, Director Choi was one of the most important voices in mid 40s Chungmuro, and young Jung was impressed enough by the 1946 film that he decided to become a director. Introduce by his father, Jung finally met the man who would become his mentor, but his early days in the industry consisted of a very simple thing: taking two tin cans and filling them with ice and soup, so that Director Choi would enjoy his lunch without having to send assistant directors or other precious staff members around to look for food. Jung Chang-Hwa knocked at the doors of Chungmuro and just became the equivalent of an errant waiter, the Starbucks version of the old Xia of Wuxia novels, if you will.

His job seemed really easy, but walking around Myungdong, the busiest zone in the entire Seoul, during rush hour wasn't the easiest of things. Sometimes Jung would even have to go through some embarrassments, like meeting old college friends, who would constantly remind him his family was well off enough he didn't need to go around carrying tin cans full of beef soup. Those humiliations were the kind of moments, the difficulties and little obstacles which would pave the way for one of the most illustrious careers in the industry's young history. The day when he stopped delivering food cans finally came, and Jung learned his lesson through those harsh few years. Never give up, even when it seemed everything was futile. Unlike other filmmakers and film people who had to deal with the tragedy of post-war Korea, Jung came from a rich family, so his debut as a director came pretty quickly, with 1953's 최후의 유혹 (The Final Temptation).

While writing the script for the film, Jung met a young film student who had been gaining experience writing scripts for experimental and short films in college, who proposed him to work together on the script of the film. That student was none other than Yoo Hyun-Mok, whose 1961 masterpiece 오발탄 (The Aimless Bullet) often features at the very top of critics' best Korean films of all time. Although he gained a reputation for being great with action scenes, Jung's early career often dealt with Sageuk covering very familiar subjects, like 장희빈 (Jang Heebin) and 장화홍련전 (The Tale of Jang-Hwa and Hong-Ryeon), but that was just because of the situation the industry was facing back then, with uber-producers carrying the ball and directors -- especially young ones like Jung -- having to comply. Jang Heebin was particularly memorable, as it marked the last collaboration between Jung and his protege assistant director, a young man by the name of Im Kwon-Taek, who everyone around here should know pretty well by now. Although the first collaboration between Hong Kong and Korea happened in 1957, it was a year later with 망향 (Nostalgia) that Jung Chang-Hwa's destinies in Hong Kong began in full force.

Many directors were coming and going from Korea to Hong Kong, but Jung's way of entering the 'Hollywood of the East' was much more creative. When HK producers had to shoot in sound stages even to recreate the streets of Hong Kong, Jung simply shot on the streets of Hong Kong, for a spy movie which won him an exclusive contract with Run Run Shaw. Although Jung had shown to be versatile in just about every genre, it was with Wuxia films that he made his name. Jung, who spoke Chinese as a second language, tried to read as many Chinese classics as possible, and used the opportunity of directing in HK to show the industry a Korean could direct a Wuxia film just as well as homegrown talent. His classic 죽음의 다섯손가락 (Five Fingers of Death) became a huge hit not only in Asia, but also in the US, where it essentially became the flagbearer of the Shaw Brothers' enterprise in the country.

Jung's successes at home and abroad seemed to promise well for the Wuxia genre in Korea, but although a few other filmmakers tried to replicate his success, the genre quickly died down, replaced by more realistic action films, often dealing with political themes (vis-a-vis Korea's relationship with Japan) like the various films about Kim Doo-Han. Once again, Koreans showed realism was what they wanted even when it came to action, and Korean Wuxia almost vanished from the screen, with only about a dozen 'serious' films in two decades representing the genre. Attempts to revive the genre met with hilariously bad results, like in the 1996 Lee Kyung-Young directed 귀천도 (The Gate of Destiny). Lee, one of the most important actors in the industry in the mid 90s and the star of Park Chan-Wook's 3인조 (Trio), recruited good friend and fellow actor Kim Min-Jong for what was a tame (and lame) tentative to bring back some of the magic of old. But it was a complete failure, both at the box office and in terms of critical reaction.

Many films after that used elements of the wuxia genre, like the idea of characters in the xia mold -- like Jang Hyuk's character in 화산고 (Volcano High) or Ryu Seung-Beom and Yoon So-Yi in 아라한 (Arahan) -- but the Korean Wuxia films made in the 21st Century could be counted on one hand. Kim Sung-Soo's excellent 무사 (Musa: The Warrior) might have some tropes in common with the genre, like Jung Woo-Sung's character, but it's a Sageuk through and through, just like 청풍명월 (Sword in the Moon), and let's not even mention Lee Myung-Se's insane masterpiece 형사 Duelist, which is a Lee Myung-See film first, anything even remotely close to 'genre' second. We're left then with two films: the vanilla remake of Shin Sang-Ok's 1968 classic 천년호 (The Thousand Year Lake) with Jung Joon-Ho and Kim Hyo-Jin, and of course Kim Young-Joon's 비천무 (Bichunmoo).

Although many would-be filmmakers grew up with the films of Jackie Chan or John Woo, Director Kim's biggest influence was probably Jet Li's 少林寺 (The Shaolin Temple), which he first viewed in middle school. He instantly felt the differences between Li's style and that of other popular stars like Bruce Lee, Yuen Biao, Sammo Hung and of course Jackie Chan, in that Li's style was closer to his idea of Wuxia, that sense of 'greater China' found in Mainland productions. With the dream of becoming another of those 'action kids', just like Ryu Seung-Wan, Director Kim started taking Taekwondo and Hapkido lessons, and even when he was majoring in Theater and Film at Hanyang University, he was still dreaming of one day being able to revive the genre (not necessarily Wuxia only, but action in general) in Korea. Kim shot an action short during his student days called 전설 (Legend), and there he met who would become one of his best friends in the industry, Shin Hyun-Joon.

Their first film together, after meeting as students and becoming friends, would be quite a risky project: although Chungmuro was already entering the era of blockbusters thanks to the success of 쉬리 (Shiri), there was no such thing as a Korean Wave, and investing 4 Billion Won in a genre which had barely registered a blip in the last 20 years was considered madness even by the most optimistic of insiders. Kang Woo-Suk, whose Cinema Service had quite a rough start in 2000 with the box office results of films like 비밀 (Secret Tears), 인터뷰 (Interview) and Bong Joon-Ho's 플란다스의 개 (Barking Dogs Never Bite), couldn't contain all the pressure built up during the making of the film. So when 비천무 (Bichunmoo) had its press screening, you could find him nervously smoking outside the theater, wondering if those 4 Billion Won would go in ashes.

Adapted from Kim Hye-Rin's best-selling manhwa of the same title, Bichunmoo was panned by critics for a simple reason: it felt like an over-the-top Korean melodrama clashing with a traditional HK Wuxia, never finding a milieu. The accomplished action orchestrated by Ching Siu-Tung protege Ma Yuk-Sing looked good, as the many familiar locations in China. But the acting was the problem, with Kim Hee-Sun doing her usual embarrassment, and Shin Hyun-Joon showing that, at least back then, melodrama wasn't his forte. But of course that's something people could have expected. The problem was trying to find an audience, as the film didn't exactly live up to the expectations of the fans, both those of the manhwa (who criticized the film for misrepresenting its story and characters, simplifying things and omitting others) and HK Wuxia fans (who weren't impressed by all the use of stunt doubles and the rather 'meat and potatoes' approach to production values, which had become an increasingly important factor in Chungmuro). What remained, of course, was the new generation of moviegoers, the 하이틴 (high teen) and young couples, who just wanted to have a little fun with familiar faces on the screen. Despite horrible reviews, Bichunmoo recorded an impressive opening weekend of 110,000 tickets in Seoul, reaching the 1.8 Million by the end of July.

Taking advantage of the Summer vacation for middle school students and an increasingly important rush of viewers from the 지방 (area outside Seoul), the film raced past the 2 Million, to land somewhere around 2.5 Million at the end of its run, not only reaching its break even point, but also surprising many insiders who predicted a quick death for the film. The Music Video generation granted the film the success critics never predicted, but Director Kim wasn't happy with the result. Too many trials and errors plagued their stay in China, where the combination of Korean actors and crew not used to the genre, and the HK action Team not used to Korean production methods, with the language barrier added to the mix, made for a much longer shoot than expected. Also, Kim was never really strong, or even interested that much in melodrama, the way it was portrayed in the film. In short, he needed to go back to the drawing board, to fulfill his dream and finally become the 'action kid' he always wanted to be. Enter 무영검 (Shadowless Sword)

This time he didn't have a literary foundation to base his story on, which was both a blessing (no fans to disappoint) but also a big challenge, having to write a story from scratch. The problem, especially when it comes to Korean history, is that people are too familiar with the Joseon Dynasty. Previous Sageuk flirted with the concept of Wuxia, especially in Lee Jae-Gab's classic 2001 MBC Drama 홍국영 (Hong Guk-Young), where Lee Tae-Ran played the daughter of a rebel showing impressive martial arts skills and of course reminding of the classic xia characters of Wuxia novels; and of course Lee Jae-Gyu's 다모 (Damo), with Ha Ji-Won, Lee Seo-Jin and Kim Min-Joon bringing a full-fledged, HK styled Wuxia to the small screen for the first time. But this familiarity with source materials and the viewers' preference for realism always clashed with the tropes of the genre, which needed some fantasy elements and that, as Kim puts it, 'exaggeration' which set them apart. So Joseon was out of the question, in some ways also because it was the only Korean historical period foreign viewers were familiar with (other than contemporary history), through popular TV Dramas like 대장금 (Dae Jang Geum) and films like 춘향뎐 (Chunhyang). With the International market increasingly flooded with Wuxia after the success of 臥虎藏龍 (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) and 英雄 (Hero), Kim wanted to diversify things a little, offering a more powerful, fast and frenetic action to contrast with the elegance of those past hits. His choice? One of the most obscure periods in Korean history: Balhae (698-926).

Tang historical records were the first to mention Balhae (Bohai in Chinese) around the mid 10th Century. With Goguryeo falling to the Shilla/Tang alliance, a group of the Kingdom's last families escaped to the area around modern day Chaoyang. Amongst them were general Geolgeol Joongsang and Qisi Piyu, the former controlling the ethnic Goguryeo remnants, the latter the Sumo Mohe tribes which were part of the Goguryeo populace. The perfect occasion was an attack the Khitan launched against Tang around the end of the 7th Century, which prompted the two generals and their people to move back to their homeland. Although the two generals died in the escape fighting Tang forces, Geolgeol Joongsang's son Dae Jo-Young survived the assault and re-organized Goguryeo and Sumo Mohe people, winning the crucial battle of Cheonmunryeong which established Balhae. Although at the beginning Balhae didn't maintain friendly relations with Tang, once Emperor Zhongzong was restored to the throne the two powers reconciled, with Emperor Xuanzong naming Dae 'Prefecture King of Balhae' in 713.

This love-hate relationship continued with several ups and downs, as King Mu attacked Tang in 732 and then subsequently reconciled. Considering their strategic position, Balhae became a sort of hub of the region, connecting Tang with Shilla and even Japan. But, just like many other Kingdoms and Empires formed by combining people from different ethnic 'fabric', Balhae slowly dismantled because of differences between the Mohe and the native Goguryeo (and their own social structure, which virtually separated the two), which Dae Jo-Young united at the dawn of the Empire. The menace from the North, those Khitan who would later form the Liao Dynasty, attacked and destroyed Balhae in 926. Some Balhae rulers lucky enough to escape with their lives 'relocated' South to Goryeo, where Emperor Wang Gun -- yes, the same of the KBS TV Series -- welcomed them under the name of 왕계 (Successors of the Royal Wang). One of them was Balhae's last Crown Prince Dae Gwang-Hyun.

Director Kim's new project started from here. What if another 'last Prince' of Balhae existed, other than Dae Gwang-Hyun? Another Prince, capable of restoring the Royal line and leading Balhae to a new tomorrow? This time he didn't have a famous manhwa to base his story on, and historical records concerning the periods were not only rare, but also filtered through the Chinese world view or too ambiguous to fully trust (especially records from Russian and Japanese sources). The Bichunmoo manhwa might have been a big success, but there weren't really too many scenes you could use in a Wuxia, as the difficulties in making the story flow showed. The need to balance traditional Wuxia characters with some sort of relation to Balhae created quite a few problems, but Kim was helped by a few legends and historical facts: that of Dae Gwang-Hyun escaping out of the country after its collapse created the basis for Dae Jung-Hyun (Lee Seo-Jin), and the old folk tale of female warrior 홍라녀 (Hong Ra-Nyeo) was the perfect foundation for Yeon So-Ha's character, played by Yoon So-Yi. But while the legend is rather well known in Korea, Kim's influences were much closer to home: he always wanted a female warrior protecting our hero, but one of his major inspirations was from the Terminator series, it was as simple as that.

He didn't simply take that concept hook, line and sinker. He adapted it to a more Korean setting: if you look at So-Ha and the other 'female warrior protecting a man', Mae Young-Ok (Lee Gi-Yong), then an interesting contrast emerges. So-Ha is a clear 외유내강 (soft outside, strong inside). Despite her impressive martial arts skills, she doesn't look intimidating on the outside, something which instead jumps at the viewer instantly, the moment they see Mae Young-Ok, with her 180cm frame. She's the opposite, a 외강내유 (strong outside, soft inside), putting up a very intimidating front, but then suffering inside because of her situation. 무영검 (Shadowless Sword) takes these characters -- Balhae's last Prince and his female 'protector', the general now working for the Khitan Gun Hwa-Pyeong (Shin Hyun-Joon) and Mae Young-Ok protecting him -- and catapults us into 927 Balhae, just one year after the big defeat against the Khitan.

The first piece of the puzzle added to the film was Action Director Ma Yuk-Sing, who despite all the difficulties worked well with Kim in Bichunmoo, and what's even more important, the two developed a sincere friendship over the years. Also, to avoid any of the problems which plagued the production of the 2000 film, the actors (Lee Seo-Jin, Shin Hyun-Joon, Yoon So-Yi and Lee Gi-Yong) trained for four months in Korea before joining the shoot in China. The interesting thing is that Director Kim trained with them, not only because he's always been interested in this kind of activity, but to better understand what the actors were going through, help them sharing the same pain and difficulties, and also get that 'rhythm' you only understand after training with professionals in this field. The partnership with Ma is not a case, as Kim had always been more of a Ching Siu-Tung than a Yuen Wo-Ping fan, and Ching was actually his first choice for Bichunmoo, but his protege Ma joined instead, as Ching was too busy back then. Of course there's plenty of good action directors in Korea, and by now Jung Doo-Hong is certainly world class.

But such intensive use of wires, not only in terms of action made by actors but also 'cinematic action' (think using wires for arrows or similar thing) required people used to the job, not just talented action directors adapting to new experiments through their style. Another interesting factor influencing the making of Shadowless Sword was New Line Cinema of the Lord of the Rings series. After a quick look at the script and a basic promo tape, they liked the idea so much they funded a good 30% of the film, which led to new records in foreign distribution sales, and might actually pave the way for a successful run in the US market. This is when Kim decided to break from the currently accepted norm, and offer something a little different, a sort of throwback to the classic Wuxia he grew up with, by focusing on power and speed instead of grace and elegance. This was also reflected in art direction, costumes and the choice of weapons.

It would be silly bringing up historical distortion talking about a Wuxia, but that 'Shadowless Sword' we see featured so importantly in the film is mostly well produced fiction. Closer to Northern European models (Viking maybe?), that kind of sword was never used in Balhae, as before late Goryeo/early Joseon the focus was on smaller, more flexible 刀 (do, Blade) than the more imposing longer swords. But then again, the concept wasn't that of recreating historically accurate weapons, but to make something which would fit with the character's personality. And it's not just weapons, even the style of action used by the four major characters (plus Mabul) follows their character traits. Even art direction and costumes followed that concept, as they got closer to road movie sensibilities than anything resembling a Wuxia: since So-Ha only wears a costume for the entire film and that has to underline her personality and inner strength to protect Jung-Hyun at all costs, we focus on lighter colours giving a sense of familiarity. Jung-Hyun, who goes from a runaway scoundrel to a King in the making, slowly but gradually changes his image becoming more and more refined by the minute, and so on. The costumes for Lee Gi-Yong's character are particularly impressive, moving away from the usual graceful robes found in leading ladies of the genre.

But of course the calling card of films like these is the action. Although there are a few problems which better editing could have dealt with, the wirework is satisfactory, and the frenetic and powerful pace given to the action scenes fits well with Kim's initial theme. If you don't see too many penetrations or blood flowing, and we bring back the old 'exploding bags' routine found in Bichunmoo, is because Kim is using concepts from the early Wuxias before the Kung Fu revolution: we're dealing with chi (or Gi, since it's a Korean film) and its tremendous power, not necessarily the action/reaction and technique found in the mano y mano fights of Kung Fu and their subsequent Wirefu offspring. Sometimes you don't even see swords hitting the target, not because they missed it but because that incredibly energy generated their martial arts skills is enough to cause damage -- particularly well done is that effect where the blood of the victims turns dark enough to make veins look like black rivers. Also, although editing is only average during the 'rest' of the film, when the action choreographers take over the action scenes, the film turns very powerful, fast and frenetic, effectively supported by Kim Joon-Seon's percussion-heavy score. As I said before, I'm not interested in technique for action scenes, and all I care about is maintaining that flow, that rhythm of cinematic action. And on those terms, Shadowless Sword fares quite well.

There's a few problems, things which could have been dealt with given time. The cameos are completely throwaway, especially a wasted Kim Soo-Ro and the usual embarrassment from Choi Ji-Woo, who in Director Kim's mind was going to act out a Brigitte Lin-like figure, but at the end just feels like Choi Ji-Woo getting ready for an Andre Kim show, and feeling awkward on some wires. Again, some of the supporting cast stands out for all the wrong reasons. Park Sung-Woong's Mabul is quite the interesting character and looks a Million dollar, but once he opens his mouth, more than a menacing figure he looks like an annoying little prick waiting to amuse us with his diabolical laughing ways. Gun Hwa-Pyeong's character could be developed a little better, despite Shin Hyun-Joon's usual charisma. But those are just minor gripes in a rather accomplished film. First the leading couple, Lee Seo-Jin and Yoon So-Yi, show remarkable chemistry. Lee looks born to act in a Sageuk or Wuxia setting, and I hope he'll continue. And Yoon confirms she's one of the most exciting young talents in the country, if 굿바이 솔로 (Goodbye Solo) wasn't enough. Lee Gi-Yong's character could stand on two pages of dialogue, but she handles it impressively, with metric tons of screen presence which will probably land her many more roles in the future (I hope). But my favorite performance is that of Jo Won-Hee, a very underrated actor who also recently appeared in 홀리데이 (Holiday). He's the key to make the final 15 Minutes work, without the pathos he gives to Jo Cheon-Soo, the film wouldn't work as well.

Kim Young-Joon promised an 'upgrade' with this film, and that is exactly what Shadowless Sword is. It's not a great film, but it's a lot of fun, it's reasonably well acted, the action is well choreographed and executed, and production values are predictably very good. Those are all things which Bichunmoo couldn't achieve, so Kim clearly learned something in the last four years. Considering the country's total indifference towards Wuxia, he's one of Chungmuro's last hopes in the genre. I hope it won't take another four years to see another of his films (that's why Shin Hyun-Joon jokes he's a 'World Cup director'), and his next film might not even be a Wuxia, but this film has won me over. It's nothing more or less than a very nice throwback to the days when Wuxia was a genre and not an excuse to make vapid exotica. The action works, the Drama (mostly) works, and it never tries to be more than that. I don't know if he finally fulfilled his dream or he'll have to work harder to do that, but now I can definitely call Kim that: Korean Cinema's 'action kid'.

CONTINUES ON PART 2