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Lies
viewed April 23, 2000 at the Castro
For full
information about this film, click
here
My third consecutive night of the Festival found me
going to see Lies -- perhaps the most
controversial film of the Festival, banned in its home
country of South Korea for pornographic content.
If you want to skip the events that led to my viewing
the movie, please scroll past the following three
paragraphs. The actual review is marked with a red
dot.
I started the evening off, appropriately, by lying to
my mom that I was going to the bookstore -- I don't
think most people could comprehend why a person would
spend three consecutive evenings in the theater.
Especially when it's 8 bucks a pop, even with a
membership discount. I swung over to the Kabuki to
buy a couple of advance tickets, immediately after which
the total costs of my festival attendance started to
kick in -- easily into the triple digits, that is, if I
were to pay for every movie I saw. It was then
that I recalled how I had left the Kabuki last night --
and how it was possible to enter that way
undetected. I then spent my drive to the Castro
regretting having bought those advance tickets.
I'll have to make up the difference by sneaking into a
second feature whenever I'm there.
It's almost impossible to sneak into the Castro --
and it's such a classy establishment you'd feel guilty
even thinking about it. A classy establishment
that plays some truly trashy films (they had a
well-received revival of Douglas Sirk films some time
ago... and now they were showing the smut I was about to
witness). One un-classy thing they did was make
the audience line up for a couple of blocks outside in
the bitter cold while the previous show let out.
It was then that a feeling of loneliness, which I'll
elaborate later, began inside me. I became very
much inclined to talk to the person in front of me -- a
garrulous albeit foul-mouthed fellow who was
good-natured but a bit odd. He would preface any
discussion of whatever film we brought up with what The
Bay Guardian thought of it, as if that was the bible
of film opinion. "I'm not interested in Three
Kings -- the Guardian didn't like that... Oh,
the Guardian seemed pretty mixed about Magnolia..."
After a while he started to creep me out, and I was glad
to lose him in the throng of people entering the
lobby.
I found a seat in a crowd that was nearing capacity,
only to have a man arrive and claim that it was his long
before. The man who sat next to him could barely
speak English and wasn't going to confirm or deny the
man's claim. What I couldn't help noticing was
that both of these men were by themselves, and they,
plus the man I encountered before, were making me
self-conscious of my own solitariness. To get away
from this, I obliged the seat claimer, and said I would
search for another seat, to which he replied, "It
won't be as good as this one." I was
definitely in the realm of strange and lonely people.
My fears were confirmed when I found a seat -- a much
better one, I might add, closer and more central than
the one I gave up -- next to another loner, this time
all in black, with a kind of mean comic-book Archie look
to him, red-haired, upturned nose. But he happened
to be the nicest of the loners, and the most
interesting: he had spent a year in Korea and gave me
some insight on the stringent social mores he had
experienced there. He also offered advice for
getting a double feature out of the Castro: stay in the
bathroom after the first show lets out. Excellent
advice that I just might put to use.
So, on to the movie itself... maybe I've been
stalling all this time because I found this movie to be
strangely lacking in substance. One of those films
that starts off in an ambitious way but gets terribly
trapped in the parameters it has set for itself, so that
it looks ludicrous in getting out. This film
shares a lot with Fight Club: a lot of beating and
mistreating between two intensely attached characters,
with some fancy-dancy editing thrown in to liven up the
violence, all leading towards a very unsatisfying
resolution. This film was in some ways better: it
was somewhat more conceivable and definitely had more
heart, especially in its 18 year old female lead, a
Lolita type who wholeheartedly dives into her sexual
tutelage, every orifice open. Over half of this
100 minute film consists of explicit sex scenes between
her and a sadomasochistic 30-ish sculptor over a two
year period. Eventually the sex just becomes
mechanical and gross, increasingly punctuated by
intense, painful whippings and beatings from metal wires
to tree branches to hoe sticks. Which is too bad,
because the film starts out in a very interesting way:
with asides by the two lead actors discussing their
roles and their feelings towards playing out their sex
acts to the camera. There's also an interesting
outtake included where two girls are fighting -- but it
seems that the director included these metafictional
passages as a way of distancing the viewer from the
content, thus mitigating the shock value -- and perhaps
escaping the censors. If that is the case, it is a
greater disappointment since she could have used this
dual-layered strategy to much more intriguing effect by
extending it through the S&M scenes; at the very
least it would have given the viewer a reprieve from the
monotonous beatings.
I left this film feeling even more bummed out about
people and my own state of solitude. It made me
feel even more that there is little to really care
deeply about in life -- that what one does invest his
energies in are bound to leave him disappointed.
But this film -- not just the characters but also the
execution of the film -- sorely lacks balance, trying
too hard to shock at the expense of meaning. It
doesn't help my own life is lacking some meaning these
days. My daily activities of work and leisure are
keeping me occupied beyond my capacity for holding on to
meanings in a balanced way. It seems that the
other alternative for happiness is obsession, which I
suppose this film warns against, if indeed it is about
anything other than contesting the Korean censorship
board.
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