joybran2000

I discovered Korean dramas when I watched City Hunter (2011) on Netflix and quickly became hooked. I've seen over 60 since then and now watch a lot more Korean than American TV shows. The great story-telling and acting make reading subtitles worthwhile. Two Weeks is now my favorite Korean drama because it has everything that makes Korean TV so compelling--high stakes, fascinating characters with interesting arcs, fantastic acting, great pacing, and lots of pretty people.

A man living an aimless life one day learns that he has a 7 year old daughter he never knew about. His ex-girlfriend has tracked him down because the little girl has leukemia and desperately needs a bone marrow transplant. When a blood test shows that he can save her life, he suddenly has a purpose for living, but then he is framed for murder because of the way he has been living. He has two weeks to prove his innocence (while being hunted by both the police and a ruthless assassin) so he can save his daughter and redeem his life.

All the main actors are talented and good-looking, but Lee Jun Ki is so outstanding, the series is worth watching just for his performance. He became a super star in Asia in 2005 for his performance as the beautiful minstrel (clown) in the record-breaking film "The King and the Clown." Since then he has been (among other types) a playboy, a delinquent, a secret agent, a Robin Hood-type legend, a journalist, and a Josean era magistrate who can see ghosts. Once again LJK is playing a role completely different from any of his previous roles and creating an unforgettable character.

The Koreans like to give acting awards for Best Couple each year. There are plenty of great relationships in this story, but I wouldn't be surprised if this year saw the first Best Couple award for a father/daughter relationship for LJK and the adorable little girl who plays his daughter. For all the great action and suspense, their relationship is the real heart of this story.

The title is misleading because he isn't exactly a werewolf and it isn't a horror movie. It is called Wolf Boy in Korea, which is a much better name. The main part of the movie is about socializing a feral child and the sweet relationship that develops between him and his adopted family, especially the older daughter. Although there are elements of fantasy toward the end of the story, enjoyment of the movie doesn't depend on that.

The cinematography is lovely and the acting is excellent, except for the villain being a little over the top. Although the movie seems to be geared toward teens and young adults, it is also entertaining for mature audiences who like a classic kind of emotional ride.

A masterpiece of black and white Cinemascope, a brilliant use of the format. Every frame is beautifully composed with meticulous production design and art direction. It is so stylized that perhaps only ardent cinephiles can really appreciate it.

The story is about a rich murderer who discovers that he has a long lost brother who looks so much like him that, if he is killed by a car bomb (in the murderer's car, in his clothes, carrying his identification), nobody will guess it isn't the murderer. The innocent brother is so poor and naive that he allows himself to be set up, but, instead of dying, he survives with a smashed face and no memory.

The justification for this implausible setup is the opportunity to explore the idea of identity by positing an amnesia patient who is fitted with a very different person's face and past. If this story had been told in a conventional way with color, a narrower screen size, realistic rather than stylized acting, and the casting of two actors who looked very similar, it would have made a reasonably interesting thriller.

The brilliance lies in the artifice, especially in casting the wonderful Dennis Haysbert in a role written for his directly opposite physical type. The filmmakers seem to expect the audience to be able to watch the movie on more than one level. The story allows the audience to consider the obvious questions about the nature of identity, but the stylization allows the audience to consider the different questions about the nature of the film experience.