Geuddae geusaramdeul

I'm-Sang Soo's "President's Last Bang" is an awesome piece of cinema, a throwback to the paranoid political thrillers of the 70s like "The Conversation," "The Parallax View" and "All the President's Men."

The film revolves around the true story about an assassination attempt made on President Park Chun-hee and its aftermath.

Saw this at Telluride and was blown away by the pitch black comedy, Kim Woo-hyeong's incredible super 35mm cinematography, and the fluid tracking shots.

The director described this film as in the vein of "Goodfellas" and the "Godfather" trilogy.

For those who are fiending for more quality Korean cinema after "Oldboy," this is definitely worth seeking out.

Dramatic event but narrated like ordinary life with a spoonful of comedy. I like 'The President's Last Bang' because it is comical. I know the history already, and the assassination of Park has been told in so many ways, and everytime it results to be super political while the work itself may not be. However, I do not like the narration part at the end being funny, light, and sarcastic as well. It goes overboard and decreases the whole quality of a movie. That narration sounds even condescending and patronizing toward the audience.

Another thing that makes me uncomfortable is how women are treated in that time period and in the movie as well. Unnecessary nude scenes and lines that degrade and shame women sexually come from women. I'm not sure if the director intended this or not, but it implies that men are blameless for how women are mistreated at that time because women put blame on each other.

In the United States we claim to have a long tradition of free expression which we hold dear, or at least insist we do. I say the words "we claim" because the ability to print Communist propaganda in Minnesota, sell gangsta rap in Arkansas and dunk a crucifixes in urine and call it art aren't exactly things that have been blithely accepted by America's moral majority. But while these things have been met with controversy, protest and even litigation, for the most part we as Americans enjoy a pretty wide birth when it comes to things we're willing to accept in the public square. This is not the case in other more draconian nations. "They hate us for our freedom," I hear some of you cry. Indeed, they're the countries we think about least; the Eastern Bloc kleptocracies, the South American socialists, the ultra-conservative caliphates and, of course, the bulwark remnants of Communism.

You wouldn't expect South Korea to be high on that list of freedom hating dystopias. Sure our understanding of the Korean peninsula is largely centered on the 1950-1953 era, but we all know South Korea is the "free" Korea, right? Well in 1961-1979, South Korea was actually under the leadership of Park Chung-Lee, a former military general turned President for life after a coup d'etat left the country in his power. Within a controversial 18 year reign, Park's expansion of emergency powers, curbing of constitutional rights and overall gestapo-ism led to large-scale student protests resulting in chaos and bloodshed.

It is under those conditions we first meet Korean Central Intelligence Service (KCIA) Agent Ju (Han). Ju is the head of President Park's (Song) security detail and along with Director Kim (Baek) doesn't seem to like the libertine political figure too much. They along with Colonel Min (Kim) plan to assassinate the President at one of his luxurious villas. The entirety of the film takes place within the golden hours before the assassination attempt and twilight hours after the deed. It is at this point the history of the event gets a little hazy. If you're watching The President's Last Bang in the United States, you're used to true stories being fudged. But in South Korea, the events in the film comes with baggage.

The movie itself is menacing and uneasy in it's voyeurism. The feeling evoked by the cinematography is somewhere between bemusement and revulsion; it's otherworldly and murky all at once. The camera has a habit of peering out behind fences, and tilting and buzzing into the four corners of the room like a spying gadfly. Other times the camera seems to stand at attention, squinting up at grimacing generals and bookish bureaucrats. The only person we tend to view at eye level is Agent Ju, probably the only person in the group who's heart is in the right place.

Of course it's not that clear at first. Agent Ju calmly converses with fellow agents knowing full well he's likely going to kill them. We're thrown right into the action with Ju, Colonel Min and Director Kim never really explaining their actions. To those with familiarity on the subject, the feeling must have been similar to the gentle wisp of wind that pre-impacts a mousetrap. I, knowing nothing still tasted the bitter taste of adrenaline pumping through my veins.

The cynicism, bitterness and inspired bits of gallows humor all work in the film's favor serving a surprisingly literal film that, like the event itself, leaves you with more questions than answers. With judging eyes primed by President Park's bacchanalian vices we're chained to characters left either dead or disappointed and no one, including the audience is wiser for it.

It is arguably for that reason the reaction following the film is so polarizing. The Colonel and Director Kim state their reasons for the coup with identical democratic log lines. They along with their targets the President, Bodyguard (Jung) and Chief Secretary (Kwun) act unilaterally callous and equally despicable. Meanwhile President Park's legacy, which includes being Korea's "greatest president" according to actual Koreans, is thrown in the air like a flank steak being fed to pitbulls. The Park family successfully sued the production company for $105,000 over the President's portrayal. And before you go saying $105,000 is a tiny amount to a studio, also consider the Park family includes current president Park Geun-Hye.

The President's Last Bang is quietly and assuredly one of the murkiest political statements ever committed to the screen. While speaking a story that offers little resolution, the images on the screen clearly pierces a wound into the psyche of contemporary Korea. Seeing the American DVD release, I was not aware until later that the Korean release purposely left blank screen for images deemed offensive. While that technical detail was left out of the American release, what's left out of both are 4 minutes of documentary footage of the student demonstrations that revealed Park for a despot.

The English-release title "The President's Last Bang" may sound like an artless literal translation of the original Korean, but I'm informed by those who speak the ancestral language (thanks, Mom and Dad) that "Geuddae geusaramdeul" actually means "The People of That Time," or, more concisely, "Those People, Then." It's a title that resonates deeply for South Koreans: On the night of October 26, 1979, shortly before he was assassinated, President Park Chung-hee was being entertained at dinner by a young singer named Shim Soo-bong, who had made a splash in a college singing contest with a song called "Geuddae geusaram" - literally, "That Person, Then." Shim reportedly sang that song to Park that fateful night; as a result, both she and the song became inextricably linked to the Park killing. Hence the movie title, "Those People, Then."

One of those "people then" was, of course, President Park, along with the director of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency, Kim Jae-kyu, who led the assassins and who personally shot the president (and ended up being executed for it). As portrayed in this film, KCIA Director Kim is pent up with rage and frustration; his liver is shot to hell, he feels his country is shot to hell, and he's convinced that the president and his chief bodyguard both deserve to be shot to hell as well.

"The President's Last Bang" has been billed as a black comedy; some American reviewers have even likened it to Kubrick's "Dr. Strangelove," which kind of threw me. I would say, it's a very wry take on a deadly serious episode of recent Korean history. I suspect much of it comes across as absurd because the real-life events it was based on were so horrifyingly absurd.

Deliberately, deliciously absurd moments abound, like the schoolchildren who refuse to stand still for the playing of the national anthem, but maybe some critics saw signs of comedy where none really exist (oh, those crazy Koreans!). For example, one reviewer was highly amused by what he saw as Kim's bungling when he supposedly runs out of bullets at the start of the assassination and must run outside to fetch another gun. Actually, Kim has plenty of bullets; it's just that his gun jammed. That's not ineptitude, just bad luck on his part.

Although the main focus of the film is the president and the KCIA director, it's also worth noting characters like gum-chewing KCIA Chief Agent Ju, whose primary job consists of procuring young women for the president's personal entertainment; his disgust with the task, with the women who agree to be a party to it, and with himself is palpable. There's also Mr. Shim, the guesthouse caretaker who's as silent as a butler and seemingly privy to everything that's going on. There's the older woman who's seen at the beginning of the film, lodging a complaint about the way her daughter was treated by the president during a bedroom date; we hear her again at the end of the film, offering a sardonic post-assassination wrapup (shades of Costa-Gavras' "Z"). And then there are the two young women, brought together for the first time, who are destined to witness the assassination close-up; afterward, they end up lounging around in a side room, chatting like college roommates.

From my peculiar American point of view, one wickedly fun moment is when Park and his top aides, chatting over dinner, start bad-mouthing not only the American ambassador to Seoul, but also then-U.S. President Jimmy Carter; such scenes crackle with a you-are-there authenticity. It's also morbidly fascinating to listen to the movie's Park Chung-hee rationalize his authoritarian rule by noting that he tolerates a certain degree of political opposition (there's a direct reference to Kim Young-sam, who was fated to become president himself years later).

As for the president's "last bang," fans of the late President Park may actually admire the way he goes out in this film. He shows no fear; he meets his fate as the tough old bird he was reputed to be.

A passing note: Whenever Korean subtitles appear, it's because the characters are speaking in Japanese (one of the fringe benefits of Japanese colonial rule being coerced bilingualism).

Final thought: Could the fractured-English title "The President's Last Bang" be a deliberate Borat-like joke on the part of a Korean who speaks English all too well?

This film is supremely stylish throughout. It informs the viewer about the reputation of the regime, the political pressures from the USA, the fear of attack from the North and the desire to replicate Japan without ever patronising the viewer of shoving it down your throat.

The lead performances, particularly that of the KCIA agents, are outstanding. The film exudes style in every shot, from the 'Blue House' as the quintessential VIP 'entertainment venue' to the military fatigues in the army HQ. The cars and suits demonstrate an appreciation of the kind of Hong Kong cinema Tarantino is so fond of plundering.

The film's triumph is to never let you sympathise or detest one character too much, that ambiguity allows for the stock of characters to rise and fall as their motives become at the same time clearer and more misguided.

Visually arresting with realistic and extreme violence the film is not for the faint hearted.