The President's Last Bang

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.

I saw this recently at the Toronto International Film Festival to a packed house with the director present. I liked it.

It comes across as a fictionalized account of the events leading up to the the 1979 president's assassination. It was believable, suspenseful, and occasionally funny, if you can imagine that! This was the work of someone who really cared to bring a defining historical moment into the modern psyche, to raise some important questions about Korean society.

In my mind, this is what movies should be about -- defining moments of time. And crafting a story that allows the viewer to be drawn into the circumstances, to be shown a view of how things may have happened without being dogmatic or overly judgmental. Kudos to the director to crafting an even-keeled drama that, I suspect is accessible to a large international audience.

The original, translated name of Geuddae geusaramdeul (aka: The President's Last Bang) is apparently 'those people, then.' The change, made for the English language market, unfortunately replaces a title significant to locals as the name of a particular song, played that fateful night by a singer invited to entertain the doomed presidential dinner party. The flippancy of the substitution is perhaps one reason why western critics have pointed up the black humour of Im Sang-soo's film so consistently. Formerly best known for light sex dramas such as Chunyudleui jeonyuksiksah (aka: Girl's Night Out, 1998) and Nunmul (aka: Tears, 2000), The President's Last Bang is the second in a trilogy of films dealing with the situation of South Korea from the 1970s to today and has proved to be, at least at home, the most controversial of Sang-soo's work. Apparently descendants and supporters of the dead president's party took exception to some documentary elements contained within the movie, which were duly cut from the initial Korean release as well as for some exports. (The UK version is complete.) Ironically, the director was also attacked by left wingers for creating a too-favourable portrait of a despised dictator. To such an extent, as the director attests in the interview which accompanies Last Bang on disc, that he was given a personal bodyguard after the premiere.

Assuming much of the political background to Im Sang-soo's drama will be relatively new to them, UK viewers will find much less to get worked up about, and the film contains none of the censorable material which has occupied the BBFC in the films of Korean directors such as, say, Kim Ki-Duk. Having said that, whether its the presidential bodyguards coming without bullets, the KCIA chief dozing with a hole in his sock or the two noodle eaters overhearing the President's autopsy with open mouths, there's no denying the elements of black humour in Last Bang, even if such moments should not be made too much of. Ultimately it's a political drama we have here, the staging of which the director sees as influenced by such mafia-grounded Hollywood titles as Goodfellas and The Godfather. At the same time, as the director says, it attempts to "analyse the psychological burden" of the dark years of tyranny as well as "provide a funeral for the president and all he left behind." Chauvinistic and fascist, the memories of Chin-Lee's regime still pervade South Korea today. The director was able to base a good deal of his film on the notes of the detailed official enquiry following the incident at the Blue House. For other elements he used his imagination. He and his art director for instance did not hesitate to jettison the idea of an accurate representation of the Blue House as it was, in favour of something more aesthetically appealing. From this point of view Last Bang differs in its documentary feel from such related films as Downfall, a film where the claustrophobic, last days of a regime are also examined. But while President Chin-Lee is the centre of attention of the Korean film, his character and psychology is not explored in depth, apart from a revealing discussion over the weaknesses of western notions of democracy. Instead, Sang-Soo focuses a good deal on the KCIA chief and his main agent, and one is never quite sure between them where fact ends and director's fancy begins.

Therein lies the film's weakness. Its in the lack of a convincing documentary feel, allied to characters at the drama's centre who may have been historically present and participant in unfolding events, but at best struggle to rise about the whimsical elements of their portraits (Ju's compulsive gum chewing for instance). At worst, the writing suggests little of the angst such a plot surely engendered - something which the recent Valkyrie managed for instance, with all its faults. Last Bang ends with a dispassionate voice-over, wrapping up the fate of those involved and some shots of the state funeral. At the end of Downfall, although we know or can guess the fate of many, we are critically involved learning what became of those present. Last Bang's closing narrative, curiously uninformative, leaves us mildly disinterested, even given our lack of local political knowledge.

Having said that, Im Sang-Soo's film is reasonably absorbing throughout, and it pulls off some noteworthy moments - such as the Da Palma-esquire ceiling-high tracking shot, which travels slowly above rooms and various corpses. There's another long tracking shot, this time a horizontal flow through the Blue House, which arguably shows one influence of Goodfellas.

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.

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.