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Though nominally a disaster movie, Sinkhole fits neatly into a subcategory of Korean films that address the current housing finance crisis. As it stands, young people in Korea are putting off marriage and other life goals because they are getting into debt to buy property, and sometimes the debt overwhelms them. The protagonist of Kim Ji-hoon’s movie is an average salaried employee of a small company who has put everything he’s got into buying a new condominium on the outskirts of Seoul, and at first the various difficulties he faces—friction with new neighbors, jealousy from colleagues—are played for laughs. Even when Dong-won (Kim Sung-kyun) starts suspecting that the quality of his new apartment may not be up to snuff, there’s a kind of slapstick quality to his disappointment and anger. His young son, for instance, finds it entertaining that marbles move across the floor by themselves. This subtext deepens when Dong-won invites his subordinates to his new digs for a housewarming party and they talk about their own housing-related woes, but just as the script starts exploring the theme in detail the bottom literally drops out of the movie, and Dong-won’s apartment building is swallowed by a sinkhole.

This disaster scenario lays out another subtext: South Korea’s unfortunate history of man-made disasters that are usually caused by poor construction practices and civil engineering. Of course, in order for the movie to pack as much drama and tension into the ordeals that the building’s residents now face just trying to survive, the disaster itself is exaggerated—the building sinks about 300 meters into the earth. Interestingly, Kim maintains the slapstick mood for a while, even as loved ones go missing and bad weather threatens to shift the ground even more. But Dong-won and his neighbors, including the ne’er-do-well single father, Man-su (Cha Seung-won), who has been a thorn in Dong-won’s side ever since he moved in, work together to make sure everyone gets out alive. Kim does some fine work in the requisite white-knuckle moments, and the patented Korean sentimentality doesn’t grate as much as it usually does. As a disaster movie, Sinkhole is efficient and entertaining (despite some cheesy special effects), but moreover its sly depiction of how generations of working people in Korea are being pushed into economic ruin by the conventional need to buy property not only holds its own against the action prerogatives but makes a more lasting and forceful impression.

In Korean. Now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063).

Sinkhole home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2021 Showbox and the Tower Pictures, Inc.

Here are the posts I wrote for the TIFF 2022 home page.

–Competition Jury Press Conference

–A Light Never Goes Out Q&A session

–Kaymak Q&A session

–The Cord of Life Q&A session

–Butterflies Live Only One Day Q&A session

–This Is What I Remember Q&A session

–1976 Q&A session

–Ashkal Q&A session

–Life Q&A session

–World War III Q&A session

–Mountain Woman Q&A session

–Opium Q&A session

An acquaintance who is very much into Korean TV dramas thinks that every single one has to contain either an amnesiac or incest. This twisted mystery sort of has both, but even if you go into it knowing that it’s still quite surprising. A woman named Soo-jin (Seo Yea-ji) is involved in a serious accident and when she wakes up in the hospital her husband, Ji-hoon (Kim Kang-woo) is there beside her; or, at least, he says he’s her husband. She can’t remember much of anything before the accident, but in any case Ji-hoon is preternaturally devoted and over time his efforts to help her recover seem almost superhuman. However, Soo-jin keeps having hallucinations of what seem to be future events, and the viewer is led to believe that she now possesses some kind of psychic power, but what’s actually happening is even stranger.

As usual, it takes a police detective to bring certain matters to light that point to the truth behind the hallucinations, and the script is structured in such a way that these truths are revealed in layers so as to project what seemed to be future events into the past, and, of course, the first casualty of these revelations is Ji-hoon, who Soo-jin soon suspects is not really her husband. Certainly, the cleverest idea has to do with where Soo-jin actually lives, since it plays into current news stories about overpriced, undersold condominiums in Korea. But it also involves migrating to Canada, adoptive parents, patricide, and domestic violence. Director Seo Yu-min has to maintain an iron grip on the story. One slip and the whole premise, which is constructed not so much as a puzzle box but rather like a house of cards, will come tumbling down. It’s a cute trick, but considering the build-up some may find the payoff a little disappointing.

In Korean. Now playing in Tokyo at Cinemart Shinjuku (03-5369-2831).

Recalled home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2021 CJ ENM

Ever since Serpico, the idea of a cop betraying colleagues who have broken the law themselves has always been catnip for filmmakers, since the whole premise is fraught with conflicting notions about the meaning of loyalty and integrity. This South Korean police procedural, adapted from a Japanese novel that took place just after World War II, opens by maintaining the so-called integrity of its protagonist, Min-jae (Choi Wooshik), a rookie who testifies against an older partner who used illegal means to capture a criminal and is quickly blackballed by other cops as a result. Just as quickly he’s summoned by Internal Affairs, who then ask him to go undercover to nail another veteran cop whom IA thinks is taking bribes from a prominent underworld figure. The setup is almost too pat—Min-jae is the son of a famous cop who died on the job, and thus has a certain reputation to maintain. At first, he isn’t interested in the assignment, until he learns that the target of the investigation may have killed another cop in the service of the underworld figure. In addition, IA says that if he successfully brings down the targeted cop, they will let him see the sealed report of the investigation into who killed his father.

What makes The Policeman’s Lineage more interesting than your average crooked cop movie is the way this particular police organization works. Basically, Kang-yoon (Cho Jin-woong), the police supervisor under suspicion, is in charge of his own team, which carries out investigations separate from other police stations and also has to raise money for expenses on their own. This arrangement sounds outlandish given how easy it would be for the members of the team to compromise their own integrity, but the historical context, involving insufficient budgets during South Korea’s pre-democracy era, makes it all the more fascinating and credible. In any case, once Min-jae has inserted himself into Kang-yoon’s team as a key member, he notices that the chief lives the high life—expensive suits, a penthouse condo, BMWs for squad cars. Moreover, Kang-yoon’s obsession is a young drug dealer from a well-to-do family whose rival seems to be Kang-yoon’s main “sponsor,” which is what IA is concerned about, but soon Min-jae also learns that IA itself may be compromised. 

It’s not revealing anything to say that Kang-yoon is under the sway of gangsters, but, as is often the case in this kind of action thriller, things are never that simple, and Min-jae’s loyalties are in a constant state of flux. Much less interesting is the action prerogatives which are doled out at such an even pace you can set your watch with each fistfight. I don’t normally come out of a cop thriller having learned something new and intriguing, so The Policeman’s Lineage at least has that to distinguish it from the rest of the lot. 

In Korean. Opens Oct. 28 in Tokyo at Shinjuku Wald 9 (03-5369-4955).

The Policeman’s Lineage home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2022 Acemaker Movieworks & Leeyang Film