'Modern Boy': Reinterpretation of Japanese Colonialism?

``Modern Boy'' (모던보이, S. Korea)
Directed by Jung Ji-woo (정지우). Starring Park Hae-il (박혜일), Kim Hye-soo (김혜수).
Above photo: Actors Lee Han, left, and Park Hae-il.


Following the footsteps of ``Radio Dayz,'' ``Once Upon a Time'' and ``The Good, the Bad, the Weird'' comes ``Modern Boy,'' another purely entertainment-driven movie set during the Japanese colonial era (1910-45). Gyeongseong, the name of Seoul at the time, is home to flamboyant flappers (so-called ``modern boys and girls''), radio stars and charming bandits who aren't necessarily working for Korea's independence.

The symbolic power of cinema is extensive, as it often showcases a given country's aesthetics, technical achievements and entertainment factors, and moreover portrays to varying degrees its cultural, historical and social values. Period pieces in particular become the subject of scrutiny as they speak for the shared history of a people.


A Japanese newspaper made a misleading report about ``Modern Boy'' and the above-mentioned Gyeongseong movies in January this year. Katsuhiro Kuroda, managing editor of Sankei Shimbun's Seoul branch, announced ``the reinterpretation of Japanese colonialism'' in Korea ― how there was an effort to reexamine it as an era of modernization rather than one of exploitation, oppression and resistance, and that the conventional school manual ``dark period'' version has gotten a facelift and was drawing popularity among the younger generation.


``Modern Boy'' is about a rich, hedonistic playboy played by the fabulous Park Hae-il who cannot care less that his country was colonized and falls head over heals in love with a beautiful independence fighter, ingeniously brought to life by Korean sex symbol Kim Hye-soo. Director Jung Ji-woo crafts a dramatic femme fatale story that evokes ``Carmen'' and ``Original Sin,'' but which can also be compared to Ang Lee's ``Lust, Caution.'' It is essentially a love story, and the dynamics of the time period set the heartbreaking mood for the narrative.

The cheerful characters of ``Modern Boy'' deliver a colorful story, but by no means do they beautify history. It simply shows that life continued, and that there was love, friendship and fun even in oppressive times. Gyeongseong is another name for exoticism, and rich period details give way to a visually lush film. The film portrays a new side of Gyeongseong, brightly lit with neon signs, where swing dance and jazz music were in full swing.

One can argue that the moral distinction between ``courageous'' independence fighters versus pro-Japanese ``traitors'' and evil Japanese authorities has entered a gray zone. ``Modern Boy'' does indeed feature a sympathetic Japanese character (Lee Han) that suffers over his genuine friendship with a Korean. But this is because the area of central conflict has shifted.

Back in the day, Korean cinema had its fare share of political films. Director Choi In-kyu, for example, made a 180-degree turn away from movies propagating Japanese militarism in the 1930s into making ultra-patriotic ones after Liberation in 1945. Such ``nationalistic'' filmmaking is not unusual. Hollywood continues to demonstrate the political agenda du jour, as Middle Eastern and even North Korean ``axis of evil'' terrorists began replacing the public enemy role long held by scheming Russian communists, Neo-Nazis and the ruthless Vietcong.

For Korean cinema's quintessential bad Japanese imperialist, it's a different story. The new Gyeongseong films mark a role shift rather than a reinterpretation of history. The Japanese oppressor is still evil but has melted into the background rather than being a strictly dishonorable character. The bitterness over losing sovereignty remains intact. Some of the most affecting moments in ``Modern Boy'' are when the protagonist, wealthy but deprived of his country, recalls his childhood dream of becoming Japanese rather than a doctor or such, and how a talented artist cannot sing in her own language.

So whether it's Hollywood or Chungmuro, a common denominator is that no matter who plays the bad guy, movies shift their focus away from the political problem at hand. It's called entertainment.

In theaters Oct. 2. 121 minutes. 12 and over. Distributed by CJ Entertainment.

(http://www.koreatimes.co.kr/)

Read about what the "Modern Boy" director and actors said about the film.

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.