As I tracked back to the opening chapter of A Bittersweet Life, I paid attention to the wisdom that softened the silence in those few words. The film unfortunately walks about a narrower path in comparison to what I was expecting it to be. It unfolds itself in a rather lazy manner to which it proves its true deliverance towards Japanese/S. Korean cinema.

A Bittersweet Life doesn’t make the standard gangster film – but this may not necessarily be a hot topic of attention for most remembered classics in the near future. You need to either play by the rules or make sure you leave an impression once the movie comes to an end. I’m not quite sure I was entirely content with its overall performance, but I’d highly recommend a watch at least.

Since the title of the film gives it away, the story must revolve around a life of a single character or an industry as a whole, right? Well, in order to successfully deliver, director, Jee-woon Kim fails to place the audience’s central focus of attention on Sun-woo. He’s designed to appear as a regular working class business man in his mid-thirties, having a rather mundane way of life. He lives around a bitter shell that defines him of his industry that he belongs to, yet soothing and placid on the inside, trying to live a life that he can never have. To me, it takes one of the longest times for the audience to get that real firm grip of the lead protagonist. The director’s effort to form a kind of attachment is moulded around by thick layers of, well… as odd as it may sound, “Time”. Yes, time plays a major constraint, especially by the way in which it holds the storyline and characters tight. I thought it was a waste of frames and effort trying to come to the second half of the film. It wasn’t that I preferred the action sequences over the long initial 60 minutes of drama; I just thought that the film could have spun gladly on a slightly shorter reel.

The film’s background score does most of the talking, depicting the precise flavours for various moods. The film would be hanging empty without the simple strokes of the violin bow trickling and finding its way into the shallow gaps of our minds. With the vivid description, I can only say that Dalparan brings out an exceptional addition to the cast and crew. With the tune, so loud and fresh in my conscious, this was one department in which I can find no complaints whatsoever.

As funny as this may sound, the film turns around and travels upon an open and a broader route. It was about time that this transformation was to take place. It didn’t seem gradual, progressive or measured but much rather thrown into the open, almost as if it had all the liberty to attempt over any kind of possibility. I only felt this way because I was genuinely unhappy with the pace of the film, as I’ve mentioned earlier, which is why the blatant observation pointed across. It was like a tale of two halves, in which most of which was dominated successfully by quicker cuts, the fair remark of revenge and the violence that labels the later 90 minutes. One by one, Sun-woo eliminates every member that comes in his way – it’s nothing new to see in cinema these days, but at least finds a way to break the ice, which to me is the primary concern.

It’s pleasing to see how the film doesn’t carry the weightage of the wrong elements by the end of it. Even as obvious as it may have seen, anyone could have seen the softer corner of Sun-woo. The director fails to make it an impactful impression whilst covering the important segment of the film, which is a second chance. It wasn’t all that clear to me at first, but it made sense at the end of it all. Was the film all about a second chance after all? The ending is all about assumption and speculation, which is why I wouldn’t go 10 ways into it, but I would personally like to think that writer, Jee-woon Kim, tries to implement his wisdom into this non-linear theme. Observe how Sun-woo believes that Heesoo deserves an opportunity to live her life than die. His character, moulded by morals and principles is what differentiates him from every other badass gangster in the industry. Fate and karma together, bring him a chance to rise from the dead as well; revenge being the final (and only) option. His belief and fantasy of the world that he lives in, to the contrast in the reality that is what differentiates the “bitter” & “sweet” paths of his consciousness.

A Bittersweet Life is a semi-clichéd action film. Even though movie ends up showing you more than you could have visualized in the very beginning, it is probable that it loses the knockout punch at the very end. To summarize, it is only a fair and respectable understanding of what was put across. I would have the film worked on various departments, had I the chance of a remake. It is a bag full of ingredients, but not balanced in the perfect of orders.

Joon-ho Bong has pulled off a sensational 120 minutes of a film that you just can’t afford to miss. With mystery, distress and tension, Memories of Murder, comes close to being one of the finest foreign thrillers that I’ve got my hands upon in recent years. It’d be a shame to put down a film such as this, only because it brings in so many bags of savour along with it.

There are a few scenes initially that need to be critically forgiven, only because it needed to be dealt with in order for the film to mould itself up together. I was skeptical at first, but the film ended up giving me little to pick on after the beginning. With Joon-ho Bong’s films, there’s more than just a regular site to cinema that you’ll come across – there’s so much that you would get to learn. Take The Host in consideration as well; both these films were proudly portrayed to their masses and delivered beautifully because of the subtlety in their tone and overall presentation. The film is gifted with darkness, heavy rain, the musk and cinematic representations of its Polaroid beauty. This may have nothing to do with the film, but completes the atmosphere and depicts its true personality.

As an audience, there’s a tendency for us to get puzzled with the way in which the film would be heading. There are some untold questions as it appeared to be rushed at first, but later it maintains its pace perfectly. I still didn’t understand why Det. Seo Tae-Yoon (Sang-kyung Kim) visited the crime scene in the first place or why the killer played his cards in the way in which he did. There’s a difference in the way in which this thriller presents itself. It draws its chapters working its way through the investigation rather than the psyche of the killer. You wouldn’t ever understand why the killings dress themselves in the way in which they do, the highly unusual M.O. or as to why it all started in the first place. Memories of Murder connects itself differently, through observations, guess work, and the obvious trail of links; yet, managing to break open with style, timing and flair.

With music by Tarō Iwashiro, there isn’t much that you’ll remember really – which surprisingly drives as a high positive for the film. Musical appearances were only brought around when required and were left alone in silence when it wasn’t called for. Dialogues were given its priorities (correctly) and the OST timed itself to follow up a rush of a heart beat from time to time. As rightly known by us all, certain volumes of tension are greatly deserved in order for a thriller (or a mystery) film to perform. The film begins to unfold its ways towards this direction only after the first real murder takes place outside the factory. It proves its strength thereafter and maintains a promising delivery.

Memories of Murder is rightly benefited by Kang-ho Song’s performance. I’ve seen him play his part in a few films in recent years and I could see a drastic difference to his later films (along with the unchanged company of Joon-ho Bong). There’s life and sincerity present in his efforts along with his gentle naïve nature to please his own humble inflated ego. Det. Park’s character couldn’t have been altered in any other way to suit the film’s needs. I was highly overwhelmed by the consistency in the journey of Det. Seo’s individual personality. You wouldn’t have realized the pattern in transformation that was headed by principles and morals (at first) followed up by a boundless effort towards the case that finally led to frustration, grief and the eagerness to catch the suspect at whatever cost. It seemed as if the two detectives managed to switch their identities towards the end of the film; wonderful to observe the narrow path of change.

I was quite unhappy to learn from the start (as the credits rolled up my screen) about the way in which Memories of Murder would come to end. I wouldn’t want to spoil it any further for you, but it could have had a heavier impact had the filmmaker not announce the most crucial detail of the film before the film had even got a chance to play its first few cards. Not only does Joon-ho Bong have the vision to grasp the non-linear techniques in filmmaking, he also has the knack to deliver a diverse and a fresh style to a thriller experience.

Don’t be fooled by the age, Kwaidan is one of the finest reasons to include Masaki Kobayashi in the contenders list for one of the greatest Japanese directors of all time. The movie, born in 1964 was awarded and remembered by several filmmakers of the era. The film covers traditional Japanese folk tales of the early 1900s and is adapted and presented with detailed art work and great attempts uncovering ‘horror’ elements to its audience. I’ll be completely honest with my feedback, so I should start off by telling you that I found the film quite heavy, especially towards the end of chapter two. It needed multiple sittings in order for me to complete this entire film.

The film breaks into several stories, covering difficult relationships (The Black Hair), family warmth (The Women of the Snow), spirits of the war (Hoichi the Earless) and a short folk tale that left an untold story [In a Cup of Tea]. I was unclear whether or not I was supposed to spot a connection between the 4 stories at 1st, later realizing that there was nothing really to search for. It was quite foolish of me but nevertheless, the stories revolved around one basic theme – Spirits.

Spirits, in my opinion, are best left untouched and quiet. One must never hamper with the soul of the dead. Yes, I was taken aback on quite a few occasions. The fear lies closely within the characters and the way in which they were presented on screen. Is it just me or are Japanese girls and women with long, straight and dark hair, often scary? If it was me in Mi nokichi’s place, I’d probably beg for mercy, staring into those pale and wide eyes.

Some might find the film a drag or slower than usual attempts. To be honest, yes, that could be one of the few drawbacks to this film. It was an attempt to gauge upon the audience, the thought of fearing the unknown, which stood strong in every story of the film. To judge it in that sense, yes, there were several times during the prolong build-ups where I sat back wondering what would hit my screen next. But as a story telling perspective, it failed to keep up the rhythm to convey the straight message. It could be a major drawback, as modern day audiences would find it difficult to stay focused for 3 long hours of prolonged storytelling.

If one attempts to present four folktales in only one film, he/she would have a simple problem of bringing about complete light to their characters. Masaki Kobayashi tried his best to deliver all that he could in the 180 minutes that he bought for himself. You would probably wake up the next day and remember only 2-3 significant characters of the film. It’s not a major drawback to this film, simply because that wasn’t the filmmaker’s priority to begin with. He needed to bring about a certain mood and a mysterious sentiment to his audience, for which he managed quite well.

What completes a horror or a mystery film? It’s the correct delivery of sound effects. At first Toru Takemitsu failed to impress me. I wasn’t impressed with his work in ‘Black Hair’. If the movie had been designed to run silently, one must make sure to time every additional sound carefully. It shouldn’t sound ‘placed’ or ‘forged’. I didn’t think Takemitsu did a good job in chapter one. Al though, there was fair improvement in the second story. Since the third was covered mostly by the Biwa and the hymn, it didn’t matter enough while the final chapter was just too short to critique anyway. So, it luckily paid off at the end of the film. The flaw was eaten away by some great filmmaking and acting.

There is so much more that needs an applaud – the beautiful role played by Michiyo Aratma, followed by the narration taken over by legendary actor, Tatsuya Nakadai or the very fact that I’ve never enjoyed a war scene portrayed in such manner (silently with the help of only a simple chant). Like I mentioned earlier, the film had several moments and it manages to fulfill most of them nearly perfectly but it also had its smaller sets of flaws that were very luckily shadowed by the braver efforts in execution.