Mother (2009)

Mother (2009)

Director:  Bong Joon-Ho

Starring:  Kim Hye-Ja, Won Bin, Jin Goo

Okay, I lied.  I said I was going to review The Man From Nowhere first, followed by Mother.  Mother is one of my favourite films of any genre, and my thoughts on the artistry of it are complex.  I need something of a running start to do it justice in a review, so my plan was to start with The Man From Nowhere.  Though equally superb, it’s a far simpler movie on almost every level, so reviewing it is a far less daunting task.

However, this would be doing a disservice to the enigmatic star of both movies, Won Bin.  His transformation – from mentally-handicapped adult in Mother, to lone-wolf action hero in The Man From Nowhere – is nothing short of astounding.  These two films should be watched back-to-back, or at least in the order they were made, as I did before I even knew that it was the same actor.  It’s only right that I review them in that order too, so here goes.  I’m going to avoid spoilers as much as possible, but I can’t really get into analysis without spoiling minor details, so be warned.

Despite its title, Mother – directed by Bong Joon-Ho (The Host, Memories of Murder) – is not really about the titular protagonist (played by the marvellous Kim Hye-Ja).  The subject of the story – and the source of the film’s central conflict – is her mentally-disabled adult son, Do-Joon (Won Bin).  Trapped in the unfortunate limbo between the life of an adult and the mentality of a child, Do-Joon is incapable of being fully one or the other.  When the police arrest him for the murder of a schoolgirl, his doting mother is the only person with the inclination to defend him and find out the truth.  Her investigation doesn’t just reveal the nature of the murder, but also throws light into the murky corners of everyone else’s lives, including her own.

This film is truly incredible.  It thrives on careful characterisation: everybody is in some way tainted by their flaws, but no one person is genuinely evil.  Every sinful act is either a tragic mistake or a moment of weakness.  The mother’s willingness to do anything to exonerate her son – who by anybody’s standards exemplifies the notion of diminished responsibility – is just the tip of the iceberg.

This concept of Do-Joon’s lack of responsibility is, in fact, the driving force behind the entire film.  His specific condition is never named – it resembles autism, and the possibility of physical brain damage is hinted at later on, but the filmmakers wisely leave it ambiguous – but it afflicts him enough that he is at the mercy of not only himself, but the opinions and actions of everyone around him.  Although he is physically an adult, he is mentally trapped at that awkward developmental stage of trying desperately to be a man:  drinking too much, showing off, and talking about girls.  He is further impaired by severe memory problems – both short-term and long – and an inability to control his temper when others call him “retard”.

All of this allows others to manipulate him, whether intentionally or otherwise:  his only friend, the delinquent Jin-Tae (Jin Goo), lets Do-Joon take the blame for a minor crime while at the same time protecting him from danger; the police, while not exactly corrupt, get him to sign a confession that he doesn’t understand.  To reveal more would spoil the ending and several twists, but the fundamental theme of the film is that nobody around him has any real idea how to treat Do-Joon, or how to account for his affliction, and this inevitably leads to more than one horrible tragedy.

That’s it for the analysis.  I could go on for another thousand words about this film, but if I dug into it any more I’d risk spoiling it for you, and that would be another tragedy.

I’d like to talk briefly about the craft of the movie, though.  In my last post I mentioned that it’s a superb example of the current Korean cinematic zeitgeist, and I stand by that.  Several of the themes are exemplary of modern Korean thrillers:  cops who aren’t exactly dirty but are willing to bend or break the rules in order to secure a conviction; wealthy elites who consider themselves above the law, the poor struggling to survive in slums, and the way both groups survive using a network of graft and favours; corruption versus human frailty.

Stylistically, this is all delivered with the kind of careful minimalism and visual acuity that turned Park Chan-Wook‘s Vengeance trilogy into breakout hits.  In fact, at first glance you could be forgiven for thinking that Park had a hand in this movie.  It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if Bong Joon-Ho admitted to some influence by Park in his directorial style, which has evolved noticeably since The Host.  These qualities are increasingly commonplace in Korean cinema, though, which leads me to wonder in which direction various ripples of influence actually travel.  There’s one moment in particular towards the beginning that screams “Korean director”, in which a simple act of urinating against a wall – the purest display of unapologetic warts-and-all humanity – is turned into as perfect a piece of characterisation, of both mother and son, as any exchange of dialogue could possibly achieve.

As for the performances of the actors involved, every single one is sublime.  Kim Hye-Ja’s eponymous (but nameless) mother is never once anything less than utterly convincing as the kindly, slightly pitiable, entirely average middle-aged mother of a disabled son.  Her performance is nothing but realistic throughout the film – she comes across as actually being her role, maintaining the character of an ordinary mother who accidentally wandered into the reality of a bleak crime thriller.  The supporting cast are admirably solid, even the smallest of bit-part actors doing just enough to sell the scene and create a character without drawing any more attention than is necessary.  Nobody tries too hard to stand out, or underplays their role too hard.

The real star, though, is Won Bin by a country mile.  As Do-Joon he moves, talks, and looks like a child.  His mastery of body language and facial expression is so incredibly thorough, and subtle, that it’s difficult to believe he could ever be anything other than an awkward, ugly nerd in real life, let alone a thirty-year-old man who works as a model between acting jobs.  The work he must have done to master the movements and mannerisms of a mentally-impaired adult . . . it really is astonishing.  If you’re not convinced of his talents after watching this movie, just watch The Man From Nowhere afterwards so you can see just how much he isn’t like Do-Joon in real life.  Truly an actor to watch.

So, I should probably give this movie a score.  Much as I’d like to give it a perfect ten, it does suffer very slightly from the one flaw that’s common to this genre:  enough of the story is told through implication that it can be slightly hard to follow, putting a lot of work on the viewer to keep track of the plot.  Some small elements of ambiguity remain that may or may not be intentional, which keep it from being a truly perfect film.

Mother, then, gets a solid 9/10 from me.

Up next is The Man From Nowhere.  Stay tuned, and thanks for reading!

–Tiger–