Natal em Agosto

Hooray for Korean cinema! Last year I saw "Chungyang" and "Nowhere to hide", now I catch up with Hur Jin-ho's directorial debut "Christmas in august". The variety of themes and level of achievement speak highly of a national cinema ripe for discovery. This film's major themes are death and love. The graceful and thoughtful way Jung Won(Han Suk-kyu) copes with his impending death, and the sublimation of his desires toward Darim(Shim Eun-Ha) out of true love for her. I was deeply moved by his careful management of behavior and emotions, shielding Darim from unnecessary pain without rejecting her.

The success of this type of film is predicated on the skill of the actors. Han and Shim excel, being both quite expressive yet naturalistic. A number of secondary characters, Jung Won's relatives, friends, and clients, are quickly delineated to enrich the story without detracting from its main focus. To LIVE is to love, but all things must pass. Pain subsides. Life goes on.

A photographer in the small city of Gunsan in South Korea learns that he has a terminal illness but downplays the seriousness of it to his family and friends. We never find out the nature of the disease but the main focus of Hur Jin-ho's poignant first film Christmas in August is not his illness. It is the grace in which he conducts his life - his ability to accept what life has in store without remorse. Sadly, it was the final film shot by cinematographer Yoo Young-kil before his death, and the film is dedicated to his memory.

The photographer, Jung-won, is played by Han Suk-kyu, at one time, Korea's most popular star. A handsome man in his early thirties with an infectious laugh, he is so warm and full of vitality that it is difficult to picture him as nearing the end of life. Jung-won owns a small photography shop and lives at home with his hard of hearing father (Goo Shin) and sister (Oh Ji-hye), teaching his dad how to play movies on the VCR, and writing instructions for him to take over his shop if he were to die. As Jung-won goes about the day-to-day business of getting his affairs in order, Dar-im (Shim Eun-ha), a meter reader, comes into his store with an urgent request for some photographic enlargements.

Abrupt and impatient, he treats her with disdain but later apologizes and she becomes a regular customer. Without overt expression of romantic feelings, their relationship develops a growing intimacy. Love is not something they say or do. It is their ground of being, the place where they come from. To protect Dar-im from suffering, Jung-won does not tell her that he has only a short time to live but this does not make the situation any easier for her. Inevitably his increasing absence from the shop causes her to feel betrayed and frustrated to the point where she throws a rock through the shop's window. Although Jung-won's decision to withhold his illness from Dar-im is open to question, it feels organic to his character in the film and is not used simply as a plot device or an excuse for the character to "live life to the fullest" by playing around.

One of the most touching sequences in the film is when an elderly woman returns to his studio to take a memorial photo of herself. Jung-won makes sure the picture is an exact likeness, knowing that soon he will be taking his own picture of remembrance. Christmas in August is an unpretentious film that never resorts to melodrama to make its point. It is about taking pleasure in ordinary moments: riding a bike, sharing a joke, eating ice cream, being thoughtful and considerate, and feeling good about what life has to offer. It is a love story where love means having to say you're sorry. Although there have been many films on the dying process, Christmas in August propels the genre in a new direction and, in the process, offers an unforgettable commentary on the human condition. Incongruously, this film about death is an experience of the utmost joy.

This is a very impressive movie. Actually, it is a heart-breaking romantic story. I feel very sorry about the main actor not confessing his love and affection. Maybe it is out of love, but it is too sad. I also feel sorry for the main actress. She doesn't know what happened and it is unfair to her.

I like the way the director conduct the movie. And if you are not in a hurry, you should watch it. It is memorable.

I am surprised I sit through the whole movie despite knowing the plot.

No earth-shaking romance here and yet this film left me shaken after the credits rolled...

No great lines of declaration of affection from the main characters and yet I was overwhelmed by the quiet suppression to profess their mutual attraction...

No hugs and kisses and yet the undercurrents of passion were strong and intense...

No happily-ever-after ending and yet the soul of the bond lingered even after the departure of the male lead....

Veteran Korean actor Han Suk-kyu and newcomer Shim Eun-ha delivered such a believable performance as ordinary persons in a hardly adventurous setting that I am convinced that this belies the film's beauty and appeal.

Han handled his role masterfully as a terminally-ill photo-shop owner living his last days when Shim came (timely/untimely?) into his life. Hiding his condition from both family and close friends, his agony was pitiful and this was especially expressed in a narration during a night of drinking with his friend: "I finally joked about the truth".

However, his pain of suffering in silence was juxtaposed with his laughter in Shim's presence. She was his light at his most gloomy moments and her friendship was so precious in times of hopelessness and helplessness. Shim was attractive in her boldness when initiating advances on Han. However, this was withdrawn when Han did not respond in a distinct manner that she was seeking. Nonetheless, her persistence was exhibited in her continual wait outside Han's shop without knowledge of his hospitalisation. That was finally challenged when she threw a rock into his shop, breaking the display window (others say it's an uninhibited act of female tantrum but I'll call it "character").... Many moments were captured by imagery (an 'Asian' style?) instead of words, showing that verbal conversations are not the only means to express deep emotions.

There were several sweet moments involving secondary characters as well. For instance, Han and his sister spitting watermelon seeds in a childlike manner, Han writing down video-recording instructions for his hard-hearing father and the old lady who dressed up in her best to take her funeral portrait in advance.

The ending was well done in that it was not overtly sorrowful (as in typical Hollywood tearjerkers) and showed that love was stronger than cancer and love overcame death. Han's last words, although most probably not communicated to Shim, were simple yet heart-wrenching.

While Titanic sank, to me, Christmas in August will float above the plane of time, remaining an endearing, unfinished love story.

If I have to go down on my knees to coax u to watch this film, I would.

How often do we live our romantic life as on the big screen, with torrid affairs and passionate encounters? Almost never, if what I see as normal life around me is anything to judge by. Romances, as previously stated, are hardly ever earthshaking affairs that leave you at the top of the world or batter and bruised.

Romance, in its every day form, as lived out millions of times over around the world, is a slow, subtle, and quiet affair. Something that grows in you, ever so slowly, probably without you even noticing it slowly taking over your being. No one can tell me when I am in love. For if someone did, I would not believe him anyway, for no one but me would know. And even then, it is just a feeling, a certain knowledge that you are feeling this exalting emotion. That you want nothing but the best for someone, that you would never want to see them suffer a moment of sadness. That you are willing to take a great degree of pain for them. I would not go so far as to say be willing to die for your loved one, for we are all human, and we do not know what we are capable of in the face of death until that moment is upon us.

Is the love between the main characters of the film, ever so subtle and understated, no less noble than that between Romeo and Juliet? The unstated emotions, the unsaid feelings, convey far more than any repeated shouts of "I love you". The restraint shown by the lead actor, displayed ever so poignantly in the scene where he watches his love interest through the cafe window, yet never did he move to make himself known to her, was simply heart-wrenching to watch. Would most of us be selfless enough to remain hidden, knowing that her emotions and feelings could not possibly be reciprocated?

On another note, how will I deal with my own certain death? While I can claim I have been seriously ill, I can not in all honesty say that I have ever come close to death. Will I be so calm, putting all my affairs in order, and leaving instructions for others to take up what I leave behind? I suspect I will be calm, for I will have little choice in the matter. Can I be so selfless? Again, the answer will have to be in the negative. I can empathize with the anguish, knowing that your life is forfeit, that fate has dealt you a fatal blow, and that future events, however little there are of them left, are no longer under your control.

Life is nothing more than a series of small events, the culmination of which may seem great for some in retrospect. But only very rarely.