Writer and director Kim (3 Iron and Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring) broaches new territory in this tight, riveting drama about the ugly underbelly of a society in perpetual preparation for war. Kim admirers may miss the understated beauty and gentleness of Kim's previous work in this gritty, realistic rendering of modern Korea's army, complete with fierce beatings, "accidental" shootings and the inculcation of warrior bloodlust in its fresh, young recruits. In a rare introduction, Kim explains that he made the film as a statement against war and to help viewers realize that a nation always on a war footing can never be a happy one.
Astute viewers will not miss the parallels with films about America's Vietnam experience, such as Born on the Fourth of July, Casualties of War and, perhaps most apt, Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket. Kim's message is clear: the nature of Korea's mandatory conscripted military is a destructive social element that should be altered.
While Kim revolves his story around a private in a platoon based on the seashore who is obsessed with finding and shooting a North Korean spy, his artist's vision and broad understanding of contemporary social issues leads us into adjacent themes, including the effect of the military on civilians, his culture's strict adherence to obedience to elders and the ultimate madness that the brutal disciplinary conditions engender in young Korean men. Private Kang is the story's simultaneous protagonist and antagonist as he takes his duties to extremes, always wearing camouflage paint, ambushing fellow enlistees and terrorizing area fishermen. One night, he sees images of people in restricted space through his night vision goggles and opens fire, killing a local man while he is making drunken love to his girlfriend Mi-young (portrayed in startling fashion by Park Ji-a). Despite the circumstances, his superiors reward Kang for following standing orders by firing on intruders in the restricted zone, and he is granted a leave of absence to visit his family in Seoul.
And this is just the beginning of the story. Kang becomes increasingly unstable, the local civilians increasingly vengeful, and his peers and superiors increasingly confused about how to handle Kang. Eventually, he is discharged from the service but faces shame and dishonor both at home and within the military, from which he cannot bring himself to break away. In this regard, The Coast Guard examines military recruits as trained killing machines and begs the question of what they are to do when they are no longer asked to kill. Again, American audiences will find chilly reminders of Vietnam-era soldiers who were ostracized by the very people they vowed to protect. As Kang's delusions progress, Mi-young descends toward her own doom in an Ophelian self-destructive and insanity-soaked orgy of despair and depravity.
No happy endings here, folks. This is Kim at the edge of his expertise. He has played the madness card before, with sex and violence in passionate personal dramas. But to directly characterize his country's military status quo as culturally destructive is a first. Kim deftly avoids political pronouncements, yet the message of this disturbing film resonates long and loud beyond the final scene.
Astute viewers will not miss the parallels with films about America's Vietnam experience, such as Born on the Fourth of July, Casualties of War and, perhaps most apt, Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket. Kim's message is clear: the nature of Korea's mandatory conscripted military is a destructive social element that should be altered.
While Kim revolves his story around a private in a platoon based on the seashore who is obsessed with finding and shooting a North Korean spy, his artist's vision and broad understanding of contemporary social issues leads us into adjacent themes, including the effect of the military on civilians, his culture's strict adherence to obedience to elders and the ultimate madness that the brutal disciplinary conditions engender in young Korean men. Private Kang is the story's simultaneous protagonist and antagonist as he takes his duties to extremes, always wearing camouflage paint, ambushing fellow enlistees and terrorizing area fishermen. One night, he sees images of people in restricted space through his night vision goggles and opens fire, killing a local man while he is making drunken love to his girlfriend Mi-young (portrayed in startling fashion by Park Ji-a). Despite the circumstances, his superiors reward Kang for following standing orders by firing on intruders in the restricted zone, and he is granted a leave of absence to visit his family in Seoul.
And this is just the beginning of the story. Kang becomes increasingly unstable, the local civilians increasingly vengeful, and his peers and superiors increasingly confused about how to handle Kang. Eventually, he is discharged from the service but faces shame and dishonor both at home and within the military, from which he cannot bring himself to break away. In this regard, The Coast Guard examines military recruits as trained killing machines and begs the question of what they are to do when they are no longer asked to kill. Again, American audiences will find chilly reminders of Vietnam-era soldiers who were ostracized by the very people they vowed to protect. As Kang's delusions progress, Mi-young descends toward her own doom in an Ophelian self-destructive and insanity-soaked orgy of despair and depravity.
No happy endings here, folks. This is Kim at the edge of his expertise. He has played the madness card before, with sex and violence in passionate personal dramas. But to directly characterize his country's military status quo as culturally destructive is a first. Kim deftly avoids political pronouncements, yet the message of this disturbing film resonates long and loud beyond the final scene.