|
was hesitant to watch Sorum, simply because I've
seen too many Asian horror films that just didn't, well, horrify me all that
much. The Slow Bore Horror genre, in particular, is wearing thin, and I've gone
out of my way to avoid them. I suppose it's a case of too much hype and not
enough rewards. And so I've had this copy of Sorum lying around for a
while, and have just now taken a look at it. After watching it, I realize now
that I should have done so a long time ago.
Sorum is a psychological thriller starring Kim
Myeong-min as Yong-hyun, a lonely cab driver with only two points of interest in
his life: his hamster and Bruce Lee. Yong-hyun is moving into a dilapidated
tenement building as the movie opens, and he has curiously very few belongings.
He's a traveler, a man who doesn't stay in one place for too long. We know very
little about Yong-hyun -- who he is, where he comes from, and how he has come to
stay in this not-very attractive building.
Yong-hyun immediately discovers
Sun-yeong (Jeong Jin-yeong), a young woman living down the hallway from him.
Sun-yeong is trapped in an abusive marriage that results in her walking around
with a black eye more often than not. The two mutually lonely and laconic
individuals become drawn to one another, perhaps sensing something immediately
comfortable in the other. Their mutual attraction comes to a head one stormy
night when Sun-yeong, defending herself, kills her husband. Without batting an
eye, Yong-hyun is burying the body in the woods, as Sun-yeong looks on, stunned.
The two almost immediately begins a love affair, but how long will it lasts?
Sorum is not a horror film. It has no ghosts and no
supernatural elements. What makes up the "horror" in Sorum is
the horrific nature of man and what they are capable of given the right
circumstances. The characters of Sun-yeong and Yong-hyun embody this belief --
they're harmless when unprovoked, but dangerous when threatened. Despite the
fact that Sun-yeong has murdered her husband (although justified, it is still
homicide) the act of burying the body washes away all sense of guilt. When
Sun-yeong's husband "disappears," there is no sense of remorse or even
a need to consider him anymore. The two lovers simply move on as if he never
existed in the first place. As people, Sun-yeong and Yong-hyun are doomed as
individuals, and together, it's only a matter of time before one of them
explodes -- or maybe both.
Yun Jong-chan has crafted a fine thriller. Sorum
moves at its own pace, but will never be mistaken for a Slow Bore Horror film.
Even though its camera moves slowly in gradual pans and tight close-ups, it has
energy, even vitality, which a lot of movies in the Slow Bore Horror movie genre
lack. It helps that both Kim Myeong-min (Yong-hyun) and Jeong Jin-yeong
(Sun-yeong) are accomplished actors, and manages to speak volumes with silence
and indirect looks. This is what good actors can do with a movie that has very
little to say by way of dialogue and more than enough to say with brief glances.
The two actors bring life and energy even when they are standing still, a
difficult feat for any actor.
Of course, good actors are wasted without a director who
knows how to use them. Director Yun treats us to a movie that is filled with
atmosphere and brimming with pessimism. A sense of doom permeates the whole
movie and gives it a somber feel. The look of the apartment building, from
inside out, is perfectly broken and frightening. A trip through the hallways
seems like a walk down a dark, damp tunnel where anything can be waiting at the
next corner. The building's lights flicker on and off seemingly at a whim, and
the lack of tenants -- there seems to be only a few families still living there
-- brings the feeling of desolation to the forefront.
Sorum also benefits
from a director who doesn't feel it's necessary to throw in cheap scares at us.
No one jumps out of corners, out of staircases or broom closets, and the movie
is as grounded in reality as any movie with its subject matter can be. Director
Yun also makes great use of excellent foley, as the movie's background noise
becomes another character alongside the apartment building. Every footstep and
raindrop seems perfectly time, every patch of shadows along the stairwells and
in the apartment hallways perfectly placed.
The only weak spots in Sorum are its secondary
characters, most of whom exist only for exposition
purposes. Even the neighbor who is writing a horror novel centered on the
apartment building feels over-extended and irrelevant. The Eun-soo character, Sun-yeong's only friend in the building, provides little meat to the
story and seems out of place. We are told that Eun-soo is still grieving over a
lover who died in the same room that Yong-hyun is now living in, and yet I
didn't seem to care. She didn't make me care, and neither did the would-be
writer with dollar signs and fame in his eyes.
It's difficult to talk too much about Sorum beyond
the 30-minute mark, since doing so might be spoiling its twists and turns and
surprise revelations. What I found most enjoyable about Sorum is that it
doesn't beat you over the head with its revelations, and instead lets them play
out slowly, but perfectly clear. The movie concerns itself with hereditary and
genetics and asks the question: Is what we do (or don't do) preordained? How
does our genetics (our hereditary bloodline) fit into our actions (or
inactions)? Can we even alter our future? Is it possible? Or has fate
already paved the road to our doom -- or salvation?
When it comes to self-preservation, and given the right
circumstances, anyone is capable of almost anything. That's human nature,
spurred on by a large helping of hereditary conditioning. That's
Sorum in a nutshell.
|
