Chilsu and Mansu http://www.beyondhollywood.com/chilsu-and-mansu-1994-movie-review/
This Easy Rider-esque journey thru politically charged Korea by two losers was a fine human drama. Chilsu is a loner, a big wolf in sheepskin jean jacket, picking up a girl at an air defence drill. Following her into pinball (imagining driving next to her in Hawaiian shirts in a convertible!), then to Burger King, where he draws her picture. Threatening to draw her nude if she doesn’t give him her number, he storms out, returning the next day and does so. She trades him a coffee for the picture: he says he’s an art student, going to Miami Beach soon to join his brother. The American dream.
Actually, he’s a movie poster painter whose lateness gets a scolding: he paints a moustache on an idol and leaves, then finds a painter Mansu to buddy up with. He ends up staying at Mansu’s place, borrowing money, even getting him to pretend to be a just returned artist from Paris, complete with beret and pipe, to double-date Chilsu’s new girlfriend and her friend. But when Mansu gets drunk, he demands soju, the local vodka, rather than the more refined beer or whiskey of the Club Princess, so is forced to leave. You can lead a whore to culture…
Again and again, the American dream and its discontents are on display. Chilsu grew up near a US army base, his sister kicked out when she started dating an American (she moved to US). Chilsu wears army fatigues—although he lies he’s the Tarzan of the special forces, he admits he only served in the National Guard—and a red-white-blue tshirt. He pretends to be American when phoning Jina at Burger King. And he listens to pop and American beat in coffee shops or reggae Africa/America while on the job.
Meanwhile the subservient Mansu is a bad drunk, turning off politics on TV in a bar and getting into a fight about it. He recalls being rejected for a passport—or the army?—because of his father, a political dissident jailed for thirty years. He gets a letter from his sister: her Dad is offered a three-day leave to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, so returns home briefly. The Mother just wants to eat together one more time; the son, bruised by his father, refuses to petition; his sister is heartbroken. Later we learn the probation was granted, but the father refused to leave, and the sister cried all night.
Chilsu continues his duplicitous courtship of the girl, a college girl and above his station, taking her to movies (Rambo IV), trying to confess to her (she refuses). He jumps a subway turnstile, takes a pee break from a job and follows her into a dept store shop (fantasizing about being introduced), then runs down the up escalator. Finally he finds her getting out of her fiancee’s car and, helpless, forcefully kisses her; she is a good girl and runs away.
Which leads to the culmination scene. The obsequious Mansu phones around and finally gets them a job, drawing a huge poster of a blonde in sunglasses sipping Glamour Whiskey. The boss sits lazily in a chair below, supervising thru bossing them. But when he goes away, Chilsu climbs to top of the billboard and Mansu follows him. Fed up with everything (Chilsu tries to confess and Mansu says Shutup and go to sleep, but he finally finds out that Chilsu has no plans to go to Miami), Mansu stands and shouts his frustrations to the apartment dwellers and office buildings surrounding them. No one hears their voices on the wind, but when Chilsu stands to join him, a headband and army t-shirt on, a crowd forms at the base, watching them. High above the city, confusion grows: are they suicidal? The police arrive with bullhorn: they call the boss, assuming it’s a pay strike. Finally night falls and the two, tired and cold and wondering “what did we do wrong.” The special forces climb up and rescue Chilsu, but Mansu turns and jumps, an actual suicide. As he’s being taken away, Chilsu sees Jina in the crowd.
This is an allegory of the frustrated voices of those cast aside, the victims of modernization or those who turn their talents to commerce and are victimized by the boss, and the malevolence of American dream. Mansu repairs bicycles in his spare time, a real proletariat, and the two ride happily on a two-seater in their most joyous moment of male bonding. But Mansu is not rich enough for a girlfriend, and finds his future ruined by the sins of the past. Meanwhile Chilsu returns to a drunk father, who lost all when sister moved to America and wife died. He remarried and his new wife earns for both, but the family is being held together by the women; men are dysfunctional, emasculated, voiceless in the face of the changing capitalist society.
This Easy Rider-esque journey thru politically charged Korea by two losers was a fine human drama. Chilsu is a loner, a big wolf in sheepskin jean jacket, picking up a girl at an air defence drill. Following her into pinball (imagining driving next to her in Hawaiian shirts in a convertible!), then to Burger King, where he draws her picture. Threatening to draw her nude if she doesn’t give him her number, he storms out, returning the next day and does so. She trades him a coffee for the picture: he says he’s an art student, going to Miami Beach soon to join his brother. The American dream.
Actually, he’s a movie poster painter whose lateness gets a scolding: he paints a moustache on an idol and leaves, then finds a painter Mansu to buddy up with. He ends up staying at Mansu’s place, borrowing money, even getting him to pretend to be a just returned artist from Paris, complete with beret and pipe, to double-date Chilsu’s new girlfriend and her friend. But when Mansu gets drunk, he demands soju, the local vodka, rather than the more refined beer or whiskey of the Club Princess, so is forced to leave. You can lead a whore to culture…
Again and again, the American dream and its discontents are on display. Chilsu grew up near a US army base, his sister kicked out when she started dating an American (she moved to US). Chilsu wears army fatigues—although he lies he’s the Tarzan of the special forces, he admits he only served in the National Guard—and a red-white-blue tshirt. He pretends to be American when phoning Jina at Burger King. And he listens to pop and American beat in coffee shops or reggae Africa/America while on the job.
Meanwhile the subservient Mansu is a bad drunk, turning off politics on TV in a bar and getting into a fight about it. He recalls being rejected for a passport—or the army?—because of his father, a political dissident jailed for thirty years. He gets a letter from his sister: her Dad is offered a three-day leave to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, so returns home briefly. The Mother just wants to eat together one more time; the son, bruised by his father, refuses to petition; his sister is heartbroken. Later we learn the probation was granted, but the father refused to leave, and the sister cried all night.
Chilsu continues his duplicitous courtship of the girl, a college girl and above his station, taking her to movies (Rambo IV), trying to confess to her (she refuses). He jumps a subway turnstile, takes a pee break from a job and follows her into a dept store shop (fantasizing about being introduced), then runs down the up escalator. Finally he finds her getting out of her fiancee’s car and, helpless, forcefully kisses her; she is a good girl and runs away.
Which leads to the culmination scene. The obsequious Mansu phones around and finally gets them a job, drawing a huge poster of a blonde in sunglasses sipping Glamour Whiskey. The boss sits lazily in a chair below, supervising thru bossing them. But when he goes away, Chilsu climbs to top of the billboard and Mansu follows him. Fed up with everything (Chilsu tries to confess and Mansu says Shutup and go to sleep, but he finally finds out that Chilsu has no plans to go to Miami), Mansu stands and shouts his frustrations to the apartment dwellers and office buildings surrounding them. No one hears their voices on the wind, but when Chilsu stands to join him, a headband and army t-shirt on, a crowd forms at the base, watching them. High above the city, confusion grows: are they suicidal? The police arrive with bullhorn: they call the boss, assuming it’s a pay strike. Finally night falls and the two, tired and cold and wondering “what did we do wrong.” The special forces climb up and rescue Chilsu, but Mansu turns and jumps, an actual suicide. As he’s being taken away, Chilsu sees Jina in the crowd.
This is an allegory of the frustrated voices of those cast aside, the victims of modernization or those who turn their talents to commerce and are victimized by the boss, and the malevolence of American dream. Mansu repairs bicycles in his spare time, a real proletariat, and the two ride happily on a two-seater in their most joyous moment of male bonding. But Mansu is not rich enough for a girlfriend, and finds his future ruined by the sins of the past. Meanwhile Chilsu returns to a drunk father, who lost all when sister moved to America and wife died. He remarried and his new wife earns for both, but the family is being held together by the women; men are dysfunctional, emasculated, voiceless in the face of the changing capitalist society.
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