Sumi Jo Returns Home With Globetrotting Album

She was very upbeat on the phone, but I was a little irritated when her two dogs kept interrupting the conversation.

There’s no place like home for internationally feted soprano Sumi Jo. The lyric coloratura singer has been traveling the world for over 20 years, and makes a ``homecoming’’ through a new crossover, cross-border album of world folk music, ``Missing You.’’

``The most important thing in life is family, and I miss home the most when I travel,’’ Jo told The Korea Times, sounding cheerful over the phone from her Italian residence. The 45-year-old lives with her three pet dogs, which she had to shush in rapid Italian during the conversation. ``For me, voyages and airports are marked by loneliness and homesickness, rather than excitement and fun. This album is like returning home,’’ she said.

The Grammy Award-winning artist comes back to Deutsche Grammophon, a label under which she recorded her opera debut ``Un Ballo in Maschera’’ with maestro Herbert von Karajan in 1987. With 16 songs in 11 languages ranging from Nordic hymns and Mexican serenades to Yiddish tunes like ``Dona Dona,’’ the project embodies Jo’s past two decades of music making around the world.

``Are there too many tracks?’’ she asked, slightly concerned. Her personal motto being ``less expectation, more appreciation,’’ she is grateful for the small things in life, but her greed for perfection is boundless when it comes to work.

Jo has released a crossover album every now and then ``like a relaxing vacation,’’ but this recording, she said, was as demanding as a hefty opera compilation. Though versed in multiple languages, Jo had to employ tutors and visit cultural centers for the unfamiliar lyrics in Norwegian and Russian among others. Recent concert tours in Russia and Israel, as well as pronunciation tips from her Argentinean assistant helped, but she felt greatly pressured about capturing the tradition and sentiment inherent to each folk song.

The result is not a messy potpourri, but a collection of soulful love songs suffused with warmth and feeling that transcend the spoken word. ``It’s Sumi Jo’s love story, and the protagonist is music,’’ said the singer. Indeed, she makes each classic song her own, whether it be something serene like ``Cossack Lullaby’’ or sensual like ``Besame Mucho,’’ which is delivered in harmony with crossover tenor Alessandro Safina. There’s an endearing artlessness to it, where Jo’s vivid voice is not embellished by fancy techniques. ``I can’t sing in a calculated manner. For me, singing is natural like breathing or sleeping,’’ she said.

The album’s last and most important track ``Mother, Sister’’ brings her back home to Korea. Singling out just one Korean piece was extremely tough, but speaking to her mother made the decision easier. ``My mom reminded me of how I used to get in trouble for fooling around and not practicing the piano when I was young. She scared me by saying how she found me beneath the Han River bridge and I’d behave,’’ said the soprano with a laugh.

Jo chose this sad song evoking Korean War orphans even though she had envisioned something brighter. ``It moved me to tears,’’ she said. The soprano also colored the piece with haegeum, a traditional Korean two-string fiddle. ``I am just so Korean,’’ she said. You can take the Jo out of Korea but not the Korea out of Jo.

Looking back on her career, she said ``music was and is my reason for living.’’ But she cautions young singers about walking a similar path. ``I’d like to advise them to make music a companion in life and not necessarily life itself,’’ she said. To add to her roster of honors, she recently won the prestigious International Puccini Award. ``It was really unexpected. It’s a great honor but it also made it clear how much more there is to achieve,’’ she said. Besides continuing to explore the vast ocean of classical repertoire, the UNESCO Artist of Peace laureate wants to continue helping children and animals.

In December, Jo and Alessandro Safina will visit Korea to sing the beautiful folk songs. ``I’m actually thinking of having the conductor wear a pilot’s uniform,’’ she said with rhythmic laughter. ``I want the audience to travel the world through music.’’ The ``Dream With Us’’ concert will take place Dec. 5 at Seoul Arts Center. Call (02) 3461-0976.

Kwon Sang-woo, Sohn Tae-young Tie Knot

Actors Kwon Sang-woo, 32, and Sohn Tae-young, 28, tied the knot Sunday at a three-hour private wedding that drew a crowd including top Korean stars, reporters and fans from Japan.
Before the wedding, the elegantly dressed couple appeared in front of fans and photographers, smiling and holding hands.``I thank everybody for coming, even those who came all the way from Japan. We promise we will do our best to live happily,'' Kwon said.

This was almost as controversial as the Branjelina - Jenn Anniston affair; Kwon was dating actres Kim Ha-neul for a long time...

`Comfort Women' as Unfading Flowers

Raped, shamed and silenced, hundreds of thousands of women from Korea and other countries were forced to serve in Japanese military brothels during World War II. Who can be justly blamed for the woes of these so-called ``comfort women''?

While the usual answer is Japanese colonial authorities, a novel argues that in fact it is the cowardly men of the male chauvinistic Joseon Kingdom (1392-1910) who were unable to protect their own women from imperial Japan (1910-45), and the Korean government, which neglected the victims for over 60 years, that should be chastised before others.

Wu Bong-gyu, whose novel ``Nunggot (Snow on the Branches)'' was selected by The Korea Times' sister paper Hankook Ilbo as the representing piece for Korea's 50th Liberation Day, has brought ``Chinese Pink: The Spirit of a Downtrodden Joseon Woman'' for the country's 63rd year of independence.

The book pays homage to the victims and their unimaginable suffering and courageous survival. They are likened to ``paeraengiggot''(Chinese Pink or Dianthus chinensis), a light purple flower shaped like the upside down paeraengi hats worn by lowly Joseon commoners. While trampled and exploited, the women persevered and keep their heads up like wild flowers that don't wilt.

But ``Chinese Pink'' goes beyond the scope of conventional works dealing with this particular subject, and scrupulously criticizes Korea's own disregard for the victims since 1945. The novel begins by pointing out that using the euphemism ``comfort women'' endorses colonial Japan's efforts to conceal the horrid nature of the institution.

The victims themselves understandably prefer the expression over the more precise ― and explicit ― term ``sex slave''. Yet the women's shame and that of the Korean bystanders who employ it to ease their own guilt, the author seems to argue, are two different things. Korean readers will find themselves feeling far less comfortable than perhaps Japanese ones.

The novel reads more like an allegorical fable or song than a graphic historical drama, and rings with ``Arirang,'' the quintessential Korean folk melody evoking ``han,'' or pervasive sadness ― bidding farewell to a loved one, and making the arduous journey across mountains and the road of life.

Images of cascading mountaintops and the smallness of man in the bosom of Mother Nature suffuses, yet the novel by no means beautifies the tumultuous period. In the center of it all stands a female protagonist, Ok-a, who, more saint than human, understands the secrets of the universe and maps out her own destiny.

Adopted by Hoe-san, a Buddhist monk, Ok-a grows up enjoying an independence, education and respect most Joseon women were deprived of. Ok-a's muse is none other than Nan Sul-hun (1563-89), an esteemed Joseon poet known for dying at the young age of 27 after an unhappy marriage to an intellectually inferior man. She, like Ok-a, perished, her towering talent unable to blossom because of her gender.

When Japanese officials begin ``recruiting'' youths for labor in factories, mines, etc., Ok-a, unable to stand her romantic feelings for Hoe-san, voluntarily leaves to work in a factory in Japan. There, she refuses to be saved by I-gu, a man desperately in love with her, and ends up getting sent to a military brothel as punishment for teaching other Korean women ``hangeul'' (Korean alphabet).

At the brothel, Ok-a's beauty strikes the fancy of high-ranking generals. While she could have avoided serving up to 100 men a day by accepting their advances, Ok-a refuses. What drives her is not the conventional force of Korean nationalism, but her own rules of transcending boundaries set by nations and people. She derides the Joseon men, who, preoccupied with continuing their own skewed Confucian legacy, had allowed their country to collapse and their women to be exploited. She even goes as far to admire the fierce loyalty of Japanese soldiers for their homeland.

Moreover, the book paints Korean modern history in a few lines about a remote Korean village: ``1940: A man clubbed to death a female tiger caught in a trap. 1945: Four women were sent to Manchuria by Japanese troops. 1950: Three North Korean soldiers were shot to death while eating. The village housed just three homes.'' Korea surrendered powerlessly to Japanese imperialism like a trapped tiger and had to helplessly watch its people be torn away from home.
``Chinese Pink'' continues on to the rise of ``Great Leader'' Kim Jong-il, another name for Joseon's male chauvinism, and Syngman Rhee, not as South Korea's first president, but as a nameless Hawaiian immigrant capitalizing upon desperation.

Demonstrators, including former "comfort
women'' or World War II sex slaves, take part in the 827th regular rally
demanding justice in front of the Japanese embassy in Seoul, Aug. 20. / Korea
Times File

Following Japan's defeat in 1945, the surviving sex slaves were abandoned and many, uninformed of forthcoming attacks by UN forces, died. Those who survived were often unable to find their way home or committed suicide. Those who did make it through the years have only recently dared to speak of the past.

Civil organizations on behalf of the women demand that the Japanese government acknowledge the sexual slavery and examine the truth; apologize in the form of a national assembly resolution; include facts in school history manuals; construct an archive center and a monument to console the spirit of the dead; and punish those responsible for the slavery.

Unbending the women may be, but flowers are bound to perish with time. Until just action is taken, habitual sadness will linger, clawing at an already downtrodden soul.

Pianist Lim Dong-min Turns New Page in Career

Mr. Lim is very talented, of course.... but very taciturn... it makes it rather difficult to interview him, but a musician's music speaks louder than a thousand words trying to describe it.

Pianist Lim Dong-min is opening a new chapter in his career, with the release of his first solo album and appointment to a teaching position at Keimyung University. The 28-year-old is going from student to associate professor _ skipping the usual six-year route _ and has painted his first self-portrait ``Beethoven’’ packaged nicely by Sony BMG.

One would expect such an artist would have much to say. Some musicians are vocal about their art, while others allow their work to speak for itself _ and Lim seems to be the latter.

``I don’t have any particular thoughts,’’ Lim commented about completing his album in an interview with The Korea Times. He brings Beethoven’s Sonata No. 31, Op. 110, Sonata No. 14, Op. 27 ``Moonlight’’ and No. 23, Op. 56 ``Appassionata.’’

``I felt at ease while recording,’’ he said about recording in New York, where he currently resides. Max Wilcox, a Grammy Award-winning producer who has worked on Beethoven recording with piano greats like Artur Rubinstein and Richard Goode, took charge. Lim received lessons from Goode himself while studying at Mannes Music School in New York. ``(Wilcox) was quite resolute about what he wanted, but I agreed that it was best to be faithful to the composer’s intentions,’’ he said.

Lim’s rendition of No. 31 _ beautiful, rollicking phrasings flowing freely within an austere traditional cadre _ seems to be the voice for the taciturn pianist.

The pianist’s choice of Beethoven marks a turn away from his reputation as a Chopin specialist. ``I wanted to try something new and not be trapped in the Chopin repertoire,’’ he said. He selected every pianist’s childhood favorites ``Moonlight’’ and its usual counterpart ``Appassionata.’’ He added No. 31 because he wanted to play one of Beethoven’s later works that foreshadow the Romantic period. Moreover, he simply plays what he likes. His will be recording a couple more CDs with Sony, perhaps Schubert or Beethoven, but he has no intention to do a full cycle of Beethoven’s sonatas. ``We’ll have to see,’’ he said. ``But I would like to give Bach a try since I have never played his pieces,’’ he added after a slight pause.

This isn’t Lim’s first CD. He has recordings of his 15th International Chopin Competition-winning performances (Victor, 2006). Sharing the third prize at the prestigious Warsaw event with his younger brother Dong-hyek elevated them both to stardom, and accepting the position at Keimyung University, which houses the Chopin Academy of Music & Performing Arts, was a natural choice. ``I don’t think of it as a big burden or anything. I simply want to deliver what I learned,’’ he said.

Having started the piano at a relatively late age of nine, Lim’s rapid development took him abroad to Russia’s Moscow State Tchaikovsky Conservatory and Germany’s Hanover Hochscule fur Music. ``I started playing the piano because everyone did at the time,’’ he said, and he didn’t dislike it. ``Music,’’ he said, ``is just one method of expressing yourself.’’

Lim in a way, almost demystifies the magical aura that often shrouds musicians and the creative process of music making. He doesn’t listen to classical music 24 hours a day _ in fact he doesn’t even have a stereo at his New York apartment. Having grown up as a fan of Michael Jackson, he spends his free time tuning into Korean drama soundtracks.

The media spotlight and attention of thousands of fans don’t bother him either. ``I don’t really pay attention to fans. I don’t mind the press, either,’’ he said, not with haughty or bemused indifference but unfaltering honesty _ perhaps a reflection of the instrumental clarity and clean, white sound of his ``Moonlight’’ sonata.

Lim celebrates the release of his first solo album with a recital at Seoul Arts Center, Sept. 28. He will play Sonatas No. 31 and 23 as well as Listz’s Sonata in B Minor, S. 178. Tickets cost from 30,000 won to 70,000 won. Call (02) 599-5743.

Lang Lang, Less Than Stellar

I don't consider myself a harsh critic; but I felt strongly compelled to write this terrible review of Mr. Lang's performance in Seoul because fans like myself have been lured to big concerts with big names, only to be disappointed like recieving an empty gift box with a fancy wrapping. It angers me that poorly organized yet painfully expensive performances can sell like hotcakes. I personally think Mr. Lang is a fabulous artist and I how his whole Mozart-meets-MTV appeal attracts non-fans to classical music, but his chemistry -- or complete lack thereof -- with the La Scala Philharmonic was exasperating.




When a major concert hall, fully packed with some 2,500 people, rumbles with an explosive ovation complete with bravos, you may wonder if something is wrong with you for not wanting to do the same. The majority of the audience, in this reporter's humble opinion, heard what they wanted to hear ― that their $200 ticket was well worth it.


Three stars ― maestro conductor Chung Myung-whun; pianist Lang Lang, who became even more famous when he graced the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics; and La Filarmonica della Scala (La Scala Philharmonic) of the revered Italian opera house. Hearing these three giants together in concert was naturally expected to be stellar. Yet, Tuesday and Wednesday's performances in Seongnam and Seoul, respectively, were disappointing to say the least.


Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2, one of the most frequently played works in Seoul, was disastrous. The structured playing and tempered whimsicality Lang demonstrated in his live recording with the Valery Gergiev-led Orchestra of the Mariinsky Theater (Deutsche Grammophon) was nowhere to be found.

Lang's vulgar expressivity was baffling, particularly the self-indulgent manner in which he walked ― or tickled, rather ― the melodic lines of the second movement. This reporter does not criticize the pianist's dreamy head tilting and full body demonstrations of each note. Though some people dismiss him as a ``hammy actor'' for it (The New York Times), how can one not feel like waltzing to the ringing bells and whispering winds of the concerto? Some of the pianissimos were finely crafted ― subtle, sweeping and balletic, but Lang's touches throughout the first two movements were far too light, completely disregarding the weighty color of the Russian piece.

In the third movement, the crowd-pleasing pianist went completely solo ― caring very little to harmonize with the orchestra, and the rhythm faltered throughout. When pianist Lim Dong-hyek recently performed Tchaikovsky's First Concerto with Vladimir Ashkenezay's EU Youth Orchestra, a mismatched tempo in the third movement was immediately corrected. Such spirit of mutual music making was completely absent in both of Lang's performances.

In Tuesday's program, La Scala continued with a dispirited rendition of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 4. The orchestra seemed better fit for sensuous Puccini or Verdi tunes, and lacked the capacity to paint the full, bursting colors of the Russian piece. The tempo was tortuously slow throughout the first half of the work, and the orchestra members seemed more preoccupied with catching up and playing it safe.


Mahler's ``Titan'' the following evening, which required even more voluminous sounds, was enervating to hear. Maestro Chung, who is much loved in France and Korea for his masterful rendition of Mahler's entire symphony repertoire, seemed very lonely up on the stage, fighting a failing battle with all his might with an unprepared troupe.

A concert in which the audience, conductor, orchestra and soloist respire together, at times taking long, meditative breaths and other times taking one's breath away, seems to have become a rarity. The audience appeared pleased nevertheless, and Lang's CDs and the newly published Korean translation of his memoir were selling furiously in the concert hall lobbies. A personal autograph from the world media's favorite pianist apparently serviced the star-struck audience.
(The Korea Times)

Read the interview with Mr. Lang

Korean-Japanese Singer's Rebel With a Cause

Mr. Pak is one of the kindest, goofiest and talented people I've inteviewed. He's awesome!

Korean-Japanese rocker Pak Poe /Courtesy of film festival organizers

A rough, coarse voice pierces through the crashing of the electric guitar. Listening closer, one recognizes Memphis blues jazzed up with reggae rhythm, janggu (Korean drum) beats and bangs of ggwaenggwari (Korean gong). The lyrics, sung with a heavy Japanese intonation, are actually Korean. The dissonant sounds ultimately form overarching melodies suffused with feeling and warmth.

Korean-Japanese rocker Pak Poe defies convention, ironically, by sticking to tradition and roots. Born in Japan to a Korean immigrant father and Japanese mother, he was the first Japanese singer to croon Korean lyrics. This was in the 1980s ― ``long before Bae Yong-joon and hallyu (Korean wave),'' the 54-year-old told The Korea Times. ``People laughed at me,'' he said.

According to the South Asia Human Rights Documentation Center, nearly half of all registered foreigners in Japan are Korean, as a result of Japan's occupation of Korea (1910-45). Despite generations of residence in Japan, many have maintained Korean citizenship and thus lack many political rights. Early efforts to assimilate with mainstream society included ``soshi-kamei'' or adopting Japanese names.

While it would have been easier for Pak to continue using his Japanese name Hirose, he insisted on adopting a Korean one ― and rebel with a cause. ``Rock 'n roll means being against something and sometimes complete abandonment. If there's no strong message, it ain't rock,'' he said. Despite his political songs, this ``Japanese Bob Dylan'' was constantly coughing up hearty laughter. ``Have you seen (the movie) `Kung Fu Panda'? The panda and I have the same name, Poe,'' he grinned.

In order to succeed in Japan with a Korean name he left. After a stint in San Francisco singing about racial discrimination against Native Americans, he returned to establish a reputation as an eclectic Bob Marley, mixing up reggae and rock. He also inspired a film, ``Across Borders, Pak Poe: A Korean Japanese Singer'' (2003) by Yukio Tanaka. The documentary brought him back to Korea as a special guest at the Corean Network Film Festival, a Korean Diaspora-themed event.

``My (song) theme is always something `arirang,''' said Pak. The term, most familiar as a quintessential Korean folk melody, evokes ``han,'' or pervasive sadness _ bidding farewell to a loved one, making the arduous journey across mountains or the road of life.

Pak lived a modern day Romeo and Juliet romance when he fell in love with a beautiful Japanese girl in high school. But his girlfriend's elite family would never approve of a son of a bulgogi (Korean barbeque) restaurateur. ``It was shocking and sad,'' he said. Yet his story is a familiar one, and is shared by many other Koreans living in Japan. It coincides with the popular Japanese movie ``Go,'' which was inspired by the autobiographical novel by award-winning Korean-Japanese novelist Kazuki Kaneshiro.

While society endorses political correctness, racism is still there, he said. ``One may be friends with a Korean but won't marry one.'' Historically, racial minorities ― Koreans, Ainus and Okinawans ― maintained close relations and married one another.

``We (Japanese) need to educate the young generation, and teach them history. A lot of things are kept secret like the truth about comfort women (World War II sex slaves). We need to be responsible,'' he said. As for the current controversy over Dokdo, he said, ``It's land, it shouldn't belong to anybody… But maybe we should rename it Dokdo-Take,'' he said, combining Dokdo with the Japanese name Takeshima. As much as he sings in Korean, he makes music about Hiroshima.

``We don't think we're going to change the world right away, but make a foundation for the next generation and start little things,'' he said. And he only knows one way: music. ``My songs are essentially love songs,'' he smiled.

Rising 'Maestra' Sung Returns

A generation after maestri Marin Alsop and Simone Young took the baton to the glass ceiling there is still no consensus on how to properly address a female master conductor. While ``maestra'' may sound like a logical female form of maestro, it really denotes schoolteacher in Italian.

This issue may become more relevant in the years to come, with promising young assistant conductors like the Boston Symphony Orchestra's Sung Shi-yeon and the New York Philharmonic's Xian Zhang.

This points to a more general question: Does gender still matter?

``I do not think of my gender when I conduct, because it is my idea that colors my music,'' Sung told The Korea Times in a telephone interview. The statement seemed more like pensive introspection than an aggressive objection. The 33-year-old, tall, charismatic and almost fiercely energetic onstage, had a delicate, feminine voice bouncing with laughter throughout the conversation.

After winning first prize at the 2006 International Conductors' Competition for Sir Georg Solti, she was invited by James Levine to join the American ensemble. Her success was followed by another top award at the Bamberg Gustav Mahler Conducting Competition last year. '

``I've just started my career, so I haven't been everywhere'' ― she said humbly but not without confidence ― ``but I did feel each country has a different mood. I just got back from Sweden, and my gender didn't seem to matter at all. But I do feel a bit pressured when I perform in musically conservative countries like Germany and Austria, where the legacies of great conductors live on.''

The Busan native made her conducting debut in her homeland by opening the 2007 season for the Seoul Philharmonic. She will return for her second concert Sept. 19. ``In Korea, where age and gender matter, both the audience and musicians do seem to be amazed,'' said Sung. ``But I think that odd factor will disappear, just like how discrimination against female instrumentalists have. Today, women make up half, and in many cases more than half, of orchestras,'' she said.

Born in 1975, Sung started playing the piano at age four. She was an accomplished young player who won several competitions. After making her solo concert debut when she was 13, she studied abroad in Germany. Local reports said Sung turned to conducting after an injury terminated her piano career, but she said this was a misunderstanding.

``It is true I got injured. But I wanted to explore other areas of music, and conducting happened to be one of them,'' she said. She undertook conductor and orchestral conducting studies with Prof. Rolf Reuter at the Hanns Eisler School of Music in Berlin. Her teacher, she said, was essential for her growth as a musician and individual. When asked if she ever misses the piano, she said she plays from time to time. She enjoys the immediacy and intimacy of piano playing, but exploring the vast ocean of musical literature as a conductor consumes her artistry in the meantime.

What is the beauty of conducting? ``A group of musicians can play any given piece. Of course a conductor can help them harmonize and bring about a sense of unity. But I love how a single person's personality and interpretation ― I suppose what you could call charisma ― can change the sound of an orchestra,'' she said. While continuing to split her time between Boston and Germany, Sung wishes to challenge herself with the opera genre. She already has some experience under her belt, having led ``The Magic Flute'' in the Mozart in Berlin Festival and other projects with German theaters.

Sung returns to conduct the Seoul Philharmonic for the second of its serial ``Classical Concerto'' series, Sept. 19 at Seoul Arts Center. Versatile pianist Dejan Lazic, known for his beautiful phrasing and dynamism, will join the ensemble for Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 4 in G major, Op. 58. ``I believe No. 4 is the most beautiful of Beethoven's piano concertos,'' she said.

Also included in the program are Sibelius's ``Lemminkainen's Homeward Journey'' and Mussorgsky's ``Pictures at an Exhibition.'' The conductor said she prepared for the pieces by studying the paintings that accompany the music. For inquiries about the concert, call (02) 3700-6300.

The concert is expected to be a picturesque musical feast. But it is hoped that the visual stimulation, if any, would be within the realms of the imagination inspired by the vivid music, rather than the unfamiliar presence of a woman gracing center stage with a baton.

'Adrift in Tokyo': Unsentimental Yet Touching

Last November, Japanese heartthrob Jo Odagiri (``Tokyo Tower'') caused a traffic jam in Seoul as local fans flocked from one theater to another to catch a glimpse of him. Before the Oct. 9 release of his South Korean film debut, Kim Ki-duk's ``Sad Dream,'' he visits the big screen through the brilliantly manic film, ``Adrift in Tokyo.''

Odagiri can, in Hollywood parlance, be compared to Johnny Depp with his mass appeal despite (or perhaps because of) his eccentric outfits and unusual roles in independent or experimental genres. ``Adrift'' is no exception, and the unshaven actor sports wild curls that make him look like an aging Elvis who has just rolled out of bed. Joining him is the veteran actor Tomokazu Miura (``The Taste of Tea'').

Odagiri and Miura play roles they could easily have done with their eyes closed, but bring that magical combination of tragedy and comedy, calamity and zaniness. Takemura (Odagiri) is a lonesome orphan who, after eight years in college, is still unable to graduate. He studies law but has no idea what he wants to do with his life and to make matters worse he has an enormous debt to pay off. The prickly debt collector Fukuhara (Miura) terrorizes him in the middle of the night and gives him an ultimatum: he must prepare 840,000 yen (around 8.4 million won) in four days or face painful consequences.

Takemura can't think of anything better than to hit the pachinko parlor. But just before the deadline, Fukuhara comes back to make an unbelievable offer: take a walk with him through Tokyo and he will give him 1 million yen. Takemura, puzzled yet in no position to argue, accepts, and so begins the promenade of their lifetime.

Director Satoshi Miki, the creative brain of hit Japanese TV programs and comedy movies, displays his signature style of placing quirky characters in unusual situations. ``Adrift'' is essentially a male bonding road movie, with two characters that start off as strangers, but meandering paths leading to unforeseen places in Tokyo ― and the heart.

The film is woven together like snapshots of scenic, wacky and quotidian scenes as it walks the audience to different corners of the city. They travel to a temple where Fukuhara and his wife shared their first kiss and a jelly dessert shop they'd visit after a fight; end up at a ``cosplay''-themed nightclub (where you ``costume-play'' or dress up like animation and cartoon characters) to track down Takemura's childhood sweetheart; stop at an amusement park; and roll in a pile of trash.

One is never sure what will happen next throughout the movie. ``Adrift'' is, however, far from fragmented and is marked by an overarching conception of the narrative as a whole. The movie may be about an orphan who has never felt true familial love meeting a middle-aged man who journeys through his memories, but it is surprisingly unsentimental. The tragicomic drama is subtle and the emotions are restrained, but something warm seeps into the heart steadily and unexpectedly. It might inspire you to stroll aimlessly and discover the beauty of small things passed by unnoticed.

In theaters Sept. 11 under the title ``Tenten.'' 101 minutes. 12 and over. In Japanese with Korean subtitles. Distributed by Sponge.

Violinist Chen Xi Leads Classical Music

This is the 20th and last in a series of interviews with the next-generation of classical musicians. ― ED.

The 1981 Academy Award-winning film ``From Mao to Mozart'' documented the Western classical music scene in China as it emerged from the Cultural Revolution. The last 15 minutes of the movie showed an earnest 10-year-old playing the cello before Isaac Stern. This was none other than esteemed cellist Jian Wang.

Now a generation later, China is becoming a major market for almost everything, and it seems classical musicians are one of its hottest exports. If Wang represented a changing China, here are the faces of ``new'' China, pianist Lang Lang and violinist Chen Xi.

>>Read about Mr. Lang Lang here.

Chen Xi's Ongoing Musical Journey

It came as a small surprise when the soft-spoken, unassuming professor Hyo Kang personally recommended a young man for the ``next generation'' series. But it seemed only natural the artistic director of the Great Mountains Music Festival and School would bring attention to Chen Xi. Kang is teaching the 23-year-old violinist at Yale beginning this fall, but Chen was already introduced in Korea last yedar as a ``genius with gorgeous tones and colors.''

The Korea Times spotted Chen conversing animatedly with Jian Wang and other musicians at the music festival. Chen looks up to Wang and Lang Lang like older brothers, but he is fast building his own reputation as one of the most promising artists of his generation.At 17, he became the youngest top prizewinner in the history of the International Tchaikovsky Violin Competition, finishing second where no first prize was awarded.

This was despite an unfortunate hand injury before the semi-finals. The Moscow event coincided with the 2002 World Cup, and hooligans who weren't happy with the match against Japan attacked Asians including Chen. He couldn't play for three days. While this handicap would have been enough to devastate anyone, Chen relaxed.

``I was here for the experience,'' he said. He was no stranger to injuries. When he was 10, he hurt his neck from excessive practicing. Fortunately, he was able to recuperate, and has been a firm believer in moderation ever since. It also reaffirmed his passion for music.

It's hard not to draw more similarities between Chen and his ``older brother'' Lang Lang. Like the pianist, the violinist fulfilled the musical ambitions of his father, who had to submit to the Cultural Revolution. ``When I was born, he checked to see I had all 10 fingers. Then he checked my face to see how I looked,'' he said laughing.

Growing up in Shenyang, he was already naming Mozart and Beethoven pieces at age two and was fiddling the violin for fun as a five-year-old with his neighbor, pianist Lang. When he was 12, he became the youngest student at the prestigious Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing. Following the advise of Lang, he moved to the United States to study at the Curtis Institute.

Chen and Lang would later tour together in Taiwan with the China Youth Symphony Orchestra.There weren't many quality concerts where he was growing up, he said. He admitted being a rather ``snobby'' soloist who got ``bored'' during rehearsals with orchestras. Moving to the U.S. and meeting passionate musicians changed his life. He discovered his love for chamber and orchestral music.In Beijing alone, there are some 300,000 violin players and 1 million pianists, including professionals and amateurs, said Chen.

Does he have any advice for those who want to follow a similar path? ``It's important to know what you want before studying abroad,'' he said. No matter how far from home, he always remembers what his teacher back in China told him. ``There are three things to keep in mind: history, the composer and nature,'' he said. Man is part of nature and music is a means of expressing human emotions, he explained.

The violinist looked surprisingly young offstage, wearing a T-shirt and boyish grin. But his gaze remained steady and the confidence in his voice was unwavering as he spoke about music. Winning a prize, let alone the top prize, at a tough competition was a big surprise. He had tried his best and was happy, but always keeps looking ahead: ``the competition was not my final goal. It's not my final destination,'' he said.

His journey has just begun.

Lang Lang: Mozart Meets MTV

Mr. Lang wearing the Adidas sneakers bearing his name

This is the 20th and last in a series of interviews with the next-generation of classical musicians. ― ED.

The 1981 Academy Award-winning film ``From Mao to Mozart'' documented the Western classical music scene in China as it emerged from the Cultural Revolution. The last 15 minutes of the movie showed an earnest 10-year-old playing the cello before Isaac Stern. This was none other than esteemed cellist Jian Wang.

Now a generation later, China is becoming a major market for almost everything, and it seems classical musicians are one of its hottest exports. If Wang represented a changing China, here are the faces of ``new'' China, pianist Lang Lang and violinist Chen Xi.

Lang Lang: Mozart Meets MTV

At 26, Lang Lang already has a ``best of'' album, and recently performed before 5 billion viewers at the Beijing Olympics opening ceremony.

It was ``unbelievable,'' he said about the opening ceremony in an email interview with The Korea Times. ``My heart is still pumping fast when I think about it. It was a miracle opening night, and representing the new generation of China this way was a really big honor.''

But Lang is more than just a Chinese star pianist. He's been like the big bang of the international classical music scene ― the Mozart of the MTV generation ― with maestros giving him the highest praise, Netizens not getting enough of him on YouTube and Adidas naming a sneaker after him.

``I can't describe him as a pianist, because you will only hear in my sentence the jealousy that I and all his colleagues feel,'' Daniel Barenboim said once. ``I'm sure he didn't show you, but you know, he has 11 fingers. He plays the piano like a cat with 11 fingers.''

Lang said music was the most natural thing for him: ``The piano happened to be the instrument I loved the most from the beginning. I think this is what you call instinct.'' The Shenyang native began playing at age three and moved to Beijing to enter the country's most prestigious conservatory ― bidding farewell to his mother to live in an unheated apartment. He had to hit the piano keys to keep warm and endure his austere father who would tell him to kill himself when he didn't measure up to expectations. This story, of course, is already familiar, and has inspired his two memoirs in English, ``Journey of a Thousand Miles: My Story'' and ``Lang Lang: Playing With Flying Keys.''

He said he wanted to inspire people through his books. ``I think that there are many things in the world you can dream of, but you are always afraid that it's a dream. I try to inspire people that everything is possible, and if you believe, you will eventually get it.''But the pianist's ultimate method of communication is, naturally, music. ``It's like you are talking to people or to yourself,'' he said. ``The amazing thing is, it is through that conversation between you and the music, between the composers' creation and your recreation, that you learn a new life… All of those things connect to your soul and help you to cross the barriers. Music is a very powerful art.''

He said he wants to paint different ``music colors'' and moods in each piece. ``Sometimes I like to start with lighter colors and go really light or go in the opposite direction,'' he said. He will be showcasing one of his favorites, Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No.2, with the La Scala Philharmonic led by maestro Chung Myung-whun in Seoul, Sept. 10.

Read about violinist Chen Xi, Mr. Lang's childhood friend.

Movies Feed on Raw Action

"Rough Cut"

Action movies celebrate the human body twisting in unimaginable ways and engage the audience in the art of primal combat. Here come two films, one about the making of an unconventional action movie, and another that documents stuntmen who help make such films possible.

`Rough Cut’: Stranger than Fiction

Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris’s famous fight scene has made the 1979 film ``Way of the Dragon’’ an action classic. Onscreen duels between top actors sell well, as demonstrated in this year’s box office hits like ``Public Enemy Returns’’ starring maverick actors Sul Kyoung-gu and Jung Jae-young. Another visible trend here is the ``toughening up’’ of melodrama heroes. It seems to have become a rite of passage set by Jang Dong-kun, who proved he’s more than just a pretty face by adopting a thug persona in ``Friend.’’ Joo Jin-mo (``A Love’’) and Song Seung-heon (``Fate’’) followed.

``Rough Cut’’ combines these two marking points, and features two handsome stars kicking and punching each other. So Ji-sup makes a comeback as Gang Pae (which sounds similar to the Korean word for ``thug’’), a gangster that once dreamed of being an actor (the movie doesn’t forget to include a snippet of So playing an extra in the Korean classic ``Green Fish’’). Opportunity comes knocking at the door when he crosses paths with Su Ta (which literally means ``hit with the hand’’ and played by Kang Ji-hwan), a movie star with a reputation of being a thug. After sending another one of his co-stars to the emergency room, desperate Su Ta asks Gang Pae to star in his movie. The real-life thug accepts, but on the condition that the action sequences be real.

Unlike Catherine Breillat’s film about filmmaking ``Sex is Comedy,’’ the two’s off screen animosity fuels the filmmaking process: Su Ta reprimands Gang Pae’s acting skills and calls him a low life scum, while Gang Pae knocks out Su Ta on the set and teases him of making a living mimicking others. Will Su Ta be able to realize the script and beat Gang Pae in the final scene?

The film really tests the fine line between fiction and reality. The tumble in the mud at the end had the two male leads, who are actually really good friends, really punching each other. Despite action schooling, the actors were unable to stick to choreography in the slippery mud.

The fighting aside, the combat in terms of screen presence is also worth watching. So is unforgettable in his role as a gangster who is scary but also very soulful and sexy in his black Armani suits. Kang also brings a freshness from his TV breaks, but So’s radiating charisma outshines him.

After working as assistant director for Kim Ki-duk (who wrote the screenplay), Chang Hoon makes his directorial debut with this fun, experimental film about real action.

``I was like the assistant director to director Bong,’’ joked the director in a recent press preview about the film’s characters, director Bong. Bong wishes to make a believable action movie, but ends up getting one that’s all too real. The movie pokes fun at just about everything in the entertainment business, from the greedy producers to senseless directors and stuck up actresses. But it also sympathizes with stars who are able to enjoy dates and other small pleasures in life.

``Rough Cut’’ has the jarring entertainment factor of ``Fight Club’’ and the crude humor of ``Sex is Comedy,’’ but not without its own original color. It will be interesting to see the future works of director Chang. In theaters Sept. 11. 113 minutes. 15 and over. Distributed by STUDIO 2.0.

`Action Boys’: Art of Stunt

In 2003, ``Ong Bak’’ brought a new martial arts style to the big screen -- Muay Thai without wires. Tony Jaa’s raw, bona fide action redefined how a martial arts movie could be crafted. New in theaters is a film about the nameless men who help make movies like ``Rough Cut.’’

``Action Boys’’ documents the lives of five men, who are among the eight who make it through the hell training of action school. Se-jin must pay off a debt from getting a tattoo of a tiger on his back -- a fortuneteller had told him that his future depends on ``piggybacking a tiger.’’ Jin-seok had become a hair stylist after falling in love with Winona Ryder in ``Edward Scissor Hands’’ but now his best asset is his six-pack abs. Gwi-deok, who is skilled in making freefalls and cars flip over, is constantly collapsing from bridges and horses and recreating car accidents. While his high kick isn’t perfect, Seong-il makes the cut because of his good looks. Moon-cheol, while the youngest of the five, boasts the best skills.

They are action heroes. This documentary that inspires more laughter than reality TV shows and more touching drama than fiction, as the camera follows around the five eccentric men from auditions to dangerous shoots, and moreover, the quiet time of the day when they reaffirm their love for action, which makes the life-risking acts worth it.

Since its appearance at Jeonju International Film Festival this year, the documentary is drawing ticket sales at a fast rate. It will also appear in film festivals in Vancouver, New York and Japan. 110 minutes. 12 and over. Distributed by Sang Sang Madang.