So far I haven’t seen any reports about Japanese right-wing action against this South Korean film about the 1909 assassination of former Japan prime minister Hirobumi Ito by Korean independence fighter Ahn Jung-geun in the titular Russian-controlled Chinese city. Officially, Ahn is a terrorist in Japan and a martyr-hero in Korea, and since the movie is a Korean production it takes a sympathetic, albeit tough-minded look at his actions that will enrage elements in Japan who still think the country’s 1910 annexation and subsequent colonization of the Korean peninsula was legal and justified, regardless of the universally accepted record showing that Japanese rule was brutal. The fact that Harbin is being released theatrically in Japan is not particularly surprising—many Korean films about the colonial period that portray Japan unflatteringly are shown here—but this one would seem to be especially sensitive owing to Ito’s stature in Japanese annals as an important statesman. The only mainstream Korean movie I know of whose theatrical release was cancelled in Japan due to right wing pressure was Battleship Island, about forced Korean laborers on the coal mining island off the coast of Kyushu during World War II, but that film was clearly a work of fiction, since it depicted an uprising that never happened. It was mainly an exercise in action movie-making with no pretense to being historically accurate, though the cruelty on view is not at issue in Korea the way it is in Japan. Harbin is similarly a potboiler that contains fictional elements to make it more appealing as entertainment, but the assassination really happened, and most Koreans know the story by heart, so it would seem to be even more objectionable to Japanese nationalists.

The main reason it’s receiving a big opening here is its star, Hyun Bin, a bona fide heartthrob in Japan, who plays Ahn as a kind of sentimental fool. Driven by a powerful patriotism but swayed by humanist impulses that often have disastrous results, Ahn is initially positioned as someone who may be the least likely of his coterie to carry out such a dangerous mission. The movie opens with his men ambushing a Japanese regiment in a snowy forest, a set piece that director Woo Min-ho stages like something out of Braveheart, all slow motion carnage that stresses the utter savagery of the emotions involved. Ahn wins, in a sense, but feels that he has to stick to international war prisoner protocols and releases the commanding officer, Tatsuo Mori (Park Hoon), despite Mori’s plea to die like a loyal soldier of the Emperor. It’s Ahn’s first mistake, because Mori quickly regroups and returns at night to slaughter what’s left of Ahn’s men. When Ahn finally shows up at the underground Korean independence HQ in Vladivostok, he’s broken and humiliated, and vows to make good by assassinating Ito, who is scheduled to meet with Russian counterparts in Harbin. From there, the script follows the carefully plotted but predictable contours of a political thriller, with comrades being captured and tortured, moles throwing spanners into the best-laid plans, and a lot of meticulous character development to keep the viewer guessing as to who will break and who will remain loyal. We know Ahn succeeded, so the main interest is how he accomplished his mission against all odds. 

The melodrama comes fast and thick, with Ahn occasionally losing nerve and either attempting suicide or engaging in philosophical conversations that betray his lack of self-confidence, but it’s all a blind. The real dramatic action is among his confederates, who waffle between fatalistic cynicism and bull-headed determination with an eye to history (“If we don’t make sacrifices, no one will remember us”), and while the dialogue can be risible, the constant shifting of suspicions is intriguing. Even more interesting is the way the Japanese are portrayed. Mori is the requisite cartoon villain, all vicious vengeance and patronizing bluster, but Ito, played with sly transgressive intent by Lily Franky, is the only character who brings to life the movie’s historical dimensions. Lily’s Ito is condescending to the Koreans he once governed but his familiarity with their resentment keeps him on his toes—though, obviously, not enough. Lily’s intelligent approach to the material casts the movie on the whole as a missed opportunity. It might have been more interesting to continue focusing on Ahn after his capture and before his summary execution, during which time he reportedly convinced his Japanese jailers of the rightness of his cause. (It’s one reason he was hanged so soon.) That would have explained Ahn’s contrary character more convincingly. It also might have been more infuriating to Japanese revisionists, but it wouldn’t have aligned with the action prerogatives of the producers. 

In Korean, Japanese, Russian and Mandarin. Now playing in Tokyo at Kadokawa Cinema Yurakucho (03-6268-0015), Shinjuku Piccadilly (050-6861-3011). 

Harbin home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2024 CJ ENM Co., Ltd., Hive Media Corp.