A very different Jackie Chan from what we’re used to, but do we want to see him in a serious drama?

Jackie Chan gets something of a hard time when it comes to his acting. Even his most diehard fans will happily deride his abilities, happy to forget the more dramatic elements from the Police Story series, and other fine examples like Heart Of Dragon, where Chan plays brother to Sammo Hung’s mentally challenged character.

Mind you, he’s not done himself any favours with much of his Stateside output. (Did anyone actually watch Tuxedo?) And that embarrassingly bad performance as a drunk at the beginning of New Police Story won’t have helped matters either.

Now The Shinjuku Incident could change all that, or at least chip away at audiences preconceptions. One thing’s for sure, you’ve never seen Jackie like this before.

Jackie plays Steelhead, one of hundreds of Chinese refugees washed up on Japan’s Wakasa Bay in the 90s. Originally a naive farm worker, he has come in search of his fiancé Xiu Xiu (Xu Jinglei, The Warlords, Confession of Pain, Heroic Duo) who left their remote village in China without a trace.

Steelhead finds himself amongst other Chinese refugees facing prejudice and oppression, illegal work or petty crime their only means to make a living. Old friend Jie (Daniel Wu, New Police Story, Protégé, One Nite In Mongkok, Purple Storm) shows him the ropes of this new life. But when he finds Xiu he learns she has married a minor Yakuza boss, Eguchi (Masaya Kato, Fighter in the Wind, Crying Freeman).

Steelhead starts to organise his fellow refugees, but soon a degree of success makes them more of a target for the gangsters that run the Shinjuku district. When Jie ends up scared and maimed by a local Taiwanese triad, he bargains with Eguchi to help break his friends free of being Japan’s underclass. This doesn’t come without a price, he must commit murder.

But the Yakuza have plans of their own, and will not tolerate foreigners taking over their territory. Soon Steelhead finds himself in the middle of an all-out war between the fractions, and with just one chance of redemption…

Shinjuku Incident a pretty shrewd career move for Jackie – who also executively produced this vehicle – as a deliberate departure from everything we’ve come to expect from him. Collaborating with one of Hong Kong’s darkest, most acclaimed dramatic directors Derek Yee (who also directed Chan’s son Jaycee in 2 Young), you can almost imagine them sitting down in a room somewhere, going through a check list of everything you’d least expect from Jackie Chan. Murder is just the start of it – there’s even a scene in with him in bed with a prostitute.

In fact, the only thing you won’t see are daredevil stunts or tight action choreography – which I can only commend Chan and Yee for doing. Chan is even said to have described this as ‘maybe one per cent action. Heavy drama.’ It’s a brave step and a world away from films like Gorgeous, where fight scenes were feebly written in, in order that fans were given what they expected. (Mind you, other than the literally gorgeous Shi Qi very little could save that film from being a stinker anyway.)

Chan gives a fine performance in the lead role, my only real bugbear being that, rather like Gorgeous and pretty much every film he appears in nowadays, he seems too old for the role he’s playing. He’s joined by a strong ensemble cast including Naoto Takenaka (The Happiness of the Katakuris, Ping Pong, Azumi), Chin Ka Lok (Murderer, Lust, Caution, The Avenging Fist) and the seemingly omnipresent Lam Suet.

Co-writer Chun Tin-Nam has a pretty good track record of late, including contributing to The Warlords and An Empress and the Warriors, as well as a previous attempt for Chan to be taken more seriously, 1993’s Crime Story. As with previous efforts like One Nite In Mongkok and Protégé, Yee’s script doesn’t shy away from the seedier or violent side of gang life and it’s repercussions, even if sometimes he doesn’t quite have the courage to carry them through. And like Protégé, there’s that occasional, overbearing need for him to show us how well this film has been researched, even though it can come off a bit ham-fisted.

At least Yee doesn’t overly simplify the situation. In fact the only real problem is that he paints such a rosy picture or rural China – presumably anticipating the films release there – that you wonder why these refugees would want to leave?

But will fans like it? For once Chan doesn’t seem too concerned – this is, for all intense purposes a vanity project, after all. The controversy surrounding its lack of release in Mainland China is completely Yee and Chan’s decision. Neither of them wanting to make the cuts necessary in order to pass censorship.

It might seem odd for Chan to neglect such a major part of his fan base, but ultimately this is just the sort of film he should make in order to make the transition to character acting. And lets face it, he needs to look beyond his days as an action star – he’s just getting too old for it. He just needs to find more suitable roles…

And the film’s not half bad either!

The Shinjuku Incident is available on DVD and Blu-ray from Cine Asia.

From the pen of Tetsuya Nakashima (Kamikaze Girls, Memories Of Matsuko) comes a comic look at the Japanese porn industry…

Expanding on a mispronunciation of an American tourist’s observation that Tokyo sure has a ‘lot of people’, Lala Pipo is essentially a series of overlapping vignettes, with Tetsuya Nakashima’s story weaving through a seedier side to Tokyo life. There’s Hiroshi, a disheveled loner desperate for a girlfriend, but too revolted in himself to get close to anyone other than his penis (played by a muppet, it’s the only persons he has conversations with!); shop assistant Tomoko who unintentionally finds her way into the porn industry, thanks to charming talent scout; Koichi, who imagines himself as porno Power Ranger Captain Bonita; and Sayuri, an overweight young woman whose aspiration is to be an Anime voiceover artist, and whose ambition has already seen her cater to a niche market in the porn industry.

Debut director Masayuki Miyano does a fair job of bringing Nakashima script to life in a way that would do him proud. It’s full of the same sort of japanese cultural and pop imagery, though somewhat less dense in it’s bombardment of those references than Nakashima would be, it quickly runs out of steam from the end of the opening sequence on.

With similar themes explored elsewhere in Tetsuya Nakashima’s work (not to mention plenty of other Japanese films) – of isolation and loneliness, and desire to end that leading to sexual exploitation or dominance of one kind or another – the brevity by which we explore each character leads to a real lack of depth in the film. Not that it doesn’t in turn keep the film light and upbeat, but it also means it lacks the emotion connection Nakashima makes in his own films.

Indeed, it brings up comparison with Tsai Ming-liang’s The Wayward Cloud, which managed to keep the more cringe worthy moments yet still make it’s characters a little more real.

It’s notable that the most seemingly pathetic character when we meet her first, Sayuri, who is looked down on by even Hiroshi, is actually the happiest and most successful on her own terms. Again Nakashima’s comment here seems clear – a solitary existence isn’t the end of the world, it’s more how you feel about yourself.

Though Lala Pipo is arguably a little light on its subject, it’s neither as explicit as perhaps it ought to be nor as honest about the consequences, it’s a likable comedy that should help build on Nakashima’s reputation for great modern storytelling, and it’s no bad debut for Miyano either.

Mad Detective writer/director Wai Ka-fai and lead Lau Ching-wan reunite for a sad, soppy, sloppy mess of a film…

After the brilliant Mad Detective, I’ll admit I was looking forward to the latest pairing between that films writer and co-director Wai Ka-fai and its leading star Lau Ching-wan (who first collaborated back in 1997 on Too Many Ways to Be No. 1) – how wrong can you get?

Several years after the loss of her father in a car accident where she, her mother and brother survived, Melody (Mia Yam, Flying Butterfly) decides to write a novel about him to help her family get over their grieving. Blinded by the accident, in her story the roles are reversed, with their blind father (Lau Ching-wan) the only surviving member of the accident. The character in her novel seems to take on his own life, as he too tries to resurrect his family in a story, but tragedy is not far away for Melody.

And so the loop goes round, deliberately building on the confusing layer upon layer of different narratives in order to propel the suspension. At the core there are some interesting thoughts about alternative realities, and characters and scenarios breaking free of their authors intentions, echoing the Pang Bothers Re-cycle or even Stanger Than Fiction (though I guess we all have Charlie Kaufman to thank for that!). Yet unlike Re-cycle Ka-fai dabbles in these themes rather than commits to them, and as the story becomes more fantastical it lacks the both the Pang’s tension and inventive vision, which was more like Alice In Wonderland for grown-ups.

Indeed, between the overbearingly sentimental tone of the piece from the opening scene, right up to increasingly juvenile ideas of lead young adult Melody – with her brother deciding to appear to his father as a (fluffy and stupid looking) dog, a mysterious ‘Ghost Whisper’ (not Jennifer Love Hewitt!) and casting a young version of herself as the operator of a ghost tram, driving ghosts to the after life – this shambolic piece starts to come off more like a kids movie, something like a Studio Ghibli film with all the life and imagination sucked out of it.

Such naivety jars against the darker themes of coming to terms with bereavement and a young adult so in the pits of despair that she contemplates suicide. In Hong Kong itself the film received an IIB rating, the equivalent of a 15 (sort of). It’s reminiscent of Tsui Hark’s equally disappointing Missing, reiterating that films need for a bizarre and ultimately unengaging take on loss. There’s little here to make you connect or sympathise or care about the characters.

There’s no doubting the enthusiasm with which Lau threw himself into the role, even learning braille, but Written By is a convoluted mess. Neither childlike nor adult in tone it’s over simplistic treatment is evocative of the current trend in Hong Kong filmmaking to treat audiences like idiots. Very disappointing…

A breathtakingly impressive directorial debut, and one of the best Asian films of 2009…

Winner of numerous awards throughout Asia and Europe, including the Tiger Award at the Rotterdam International Film Festival, the Jury Prize for Best Film and Best Male Performance at Montreal’s Fant-Asia Film Festival and the Best Film award and Critics’ Prize at the Deauville Asian Film Festival, Breathless marks the writing and directorial debut of Yang Ik-June, an actor whose track record to date has seen him in little more than supporting and bit roles.

Yang Ik-June gives a remarkable performance in the lead role of Sang-hoon, a debt collector and general thug for hire, prone to violent outbursts directed at pretty much anyone or anything that happens to get in his way. He leads a solitary life of few connections save his boss and old friend Man-Sik (Man-shik Jeong), his estranged half-sister and her son, and his ex-convict father – for whom Sang-hoon as nothing but hatred as the man who killed his mother and broke his family apart.

Things change for after a chance meeting with schoolgirl Yeon-Hue (Kot-bi Kim), and what begins for Sang-hoon as a customary violent encounter – she slaps him and he knocks her out cold – soon turns into a offbeat and touching friendship as they recognise how much they have in common – both have been damaged by domestic violence.

Yang Ik-June’s approach as director is surprisingly assured and understated, combining an unapologetic and even shocking view of his characters and the violence around them with a genuine warmth and humour. It’s an unerringly believable account of an unlikely friendship that doesn’t beg for audience sympathies with big swells of music to pull your emotions – there’s little music at all (not that that was, from Ik-June’s accounts, deliberate).

Certainly, the character of Sang-hoon remains pretty unsympathetic even after you discover his tragic history. And yet with Ik-June natural, if unassuming charm, he truly creates a character you care for as you see realise he has the potential to break free of this violent cycle. It’s touching without artifice, and that makes it very impressive indeed.

Moreover, despite the often-violent content and almost non-stop profanity, Ik-June creates a film that is unexpectedly watchable and entertaining. It’s akin to films like Nil By Mouth – which itself was written and directed by an actor, Gary Oldman (even though he chose not to take a role in it) –in it’s themes of working-class life coloured by domestic abuse.

With extemporary performances from the cast, which features both veterans, novices and – if Ik-June is to be believed – some very talented extras from the filming crew, Breathless is a breathtakingly uncompromising portrayal of life, yet manages to be funny and moving at the same time – a brave and remarkable debut film from a young actor and filmmaker who we will definitely see more of in future.

We spoke to Yang Ik-June late last year, read the exclusive interview here…

Breathless is released on a special 2-disc collector’s edition DVD on 22 March by Terracotta Distribution.

Lu Chuan’s latest film about the rape of Nanjing may be in black and white, but his characters most definitely are not…

It was over three years ago when I spoke to Lu Chuan about his fabulous second movie Kekexili: Mountain Patrol, then about to begin a limited theatrical release in the UK courtesy of Axiom films (despite the fact it had previously been released by Sony on DVD). At the time I asked him what his next film would be, and without any hesitation the answer came back that it would be ‘Nanjing! Nanjing!’ (the original Chinese title of the film). Of course, while it’s usual to ask directors their future plans it’s all the more exciting when they actually come to fruition…

Introducing the film to an audience at the London Film Festival, Lu Chuan revealed the film had been in production for over four years, with much of that time taken up with meticulous research into the situation not only from a Chinese perspective, but also from that of the occupying Japanese soldiers. Unsurprisingly, it makes for grim if undeniably compelling, viewing.

With the Japanese Imperial Army at gates of Nanking, from vignettes the story builds up a broader picture of the travesties committed and motivations of those involved: from the doomed Chinese resistance leader who leads a group that includes children against the might of the Japanese forces (Liu Ye, Curse of the Golden Flower, Purple Butterfly); to the Japanese soldier confused into believing a real relationship could develop between him and a –so-called ‘comfort woman’ (Hideo Nakaizumi); to the anxious Chinese secretary of a German missionary, forced to compromise loyalty to his own nation in order to keep his wife and child alive (Wei Fan, A World Without Thieves).

As you might expect from Lu Chuan’s previous work Kekexili, the picture he paints is not a simplistic version of events where Chinese are the persecuted and heroic, the Chinese secretary effectively sells out his own nation to keep himself alive, while the Japanese soldier is overwhelmed by his own forces merciless treatment of the Chinese. Yes, the film may be in black and white, but when it comes to conflict, Lu Chuan’s loyalties are decidedly grey.

Of course, this has made the film rather controversial in China, where neither a sympathetic Japanese nor a dishonourable Chinese character are particularly favourable. But of course, that’s Chuan’s point – in war we do what we must to survive. It’s not a judgement but an honesty so often missing from films based around war.

Lu Chuan candidly admitted in a Q&A after the LFF screening that his choice to shoot the film in black and white came from his dislike of the sight of blood. He felt it would be too distracting against carnage that was, frankly, horrific enough. (Ironically the same was true of another film screening at the 2009 London Film Festival, Polytechnique, based on the Montreal Massacure of 1989.)

This can’t help but bring Spielberg’s Schindler’s List, but those hoping for a similar uplifting final segment to truly lift the soul won’t find that kind of simplicity here. City Of Life And Death is a haunting but elegant take on the monstrosities of war.

City Of Life And Death will be released by High Flyers Films on 16 April at Curzon Mayfair and selected cinemas around the UK.

With an interesting premise that goes awry, Hirokazu Kore-eda’s blow-up doll may develop a heart, but where’s the films soul?

In the first of a (short) series we look at some of the more interesting films that premiered at the recent 2009 London Film Festival and will, hopefully, make it to a wider audience. First up is Air Doll, director Hirokazu Kore-eda’s latest offering about an inflatable sex doll that comes to life…

The doll in question belongs Hideo (Itsuji Itao, Death Note: The Last Name, Tokyo Gore Police, Love Exposure), who treats the sex doll more like a living companion, dressing her up, talking to her over dinner, and generally caring for her far more than he would a real girlfriend (with a great sense of irony by director Kore-eda).

One day the doll he calls Nozomi (Bae Doo-Na, The Host, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Barking Dogs Never Bite) comes to life, and begins living a real, second life when he goes to work. Naively exploring the world outside her apartment, she soon encounters various urban residents who are as metaphorically ‘empty inside’ as she is for real. Getting a job at a local video store, she befriends her colleague Junichi (Arata, Bare Essence of Life, 20th Century Boys, Ping Pong), with whom she learns about life through films they watch together there.

As that friendship turns to love, she begins to know what it feels like to be a real human, but that happiness is soon interrupted by tragedy…

This isn’t the first film to feature a sex doll. In the past we’ve seen Lars And The Real Girl and delusional schlock horror Love Object, but it’s the first to show it from the dolls perspective. Of course, Kore-eda’s film is far more than an obvious look at the objectification of women in today’s society – it’s a tender meditation on the isolation of urban life, and loneliness each of his characters feel, and what it means to be human.

Based on the manga The Pneumatic Figure of a Girl by Yoshie Gouda – himself no stranger to live-action adaptations with the recent very successful version of Happily Ever After – the core themes are by no means uncommon. Indeed, even the more spectacular science fiction of Ghost In The Shell has at its heart the same question, what does it mean to be a living being.

As with previous films like Hana (which itself played at the London Film Festival two years ago), Kore-eda keeps his characters to a core ensemble, as they reoccur and we learn more about their lives. Each is fractured and dysfunctional in some way or another, all have a certain emptiness. Yet somehow the film itself fails to connect, like it’s as empty as the subject. It may have heart, but lacks the soul and warmth of Hana (which to my mind has been one of the most enjoyable and overlooked Samurai period films of recent years). It’s almost as if the director is holding us at the same distance we keep ourselves from our urban neighbours. (And again, not an uncommon themes, particularly in Japanese films.)

It’s when Nozomi meets her maker, the film really loses its way. It dithers for half an hour, seemingly unsure of where it wants to go, coming to a tragic but ultimately unsatisfying conclusion. When he asks if she has seen anything other than sadness in this world, she shakes her head. In many ways, it’s not unlike John Sayles interesting but flawed The Brother From Another Planet.

Korean actress Bae Doo-Na gives another solid performance in the lead, if oddly almost unrecognisable – her nationality successfully adding a level or two to Nozomi’s alienation and general bewilderment. Indeed, spending much of the film naked is bound to please long-time fans of her work, though Kore-eda’s direction is not at all salacious. Its only after she accidently nicks herself, letting precious air out of her body, and Junichi saves her by blowing her up, both sensual and hilarious, that his film gets remotes sexy – which seems somewhat fitting.

Kore-eda’s film is a great concept, and pretty well played out. Worth seeing. It just makes you wish some bright spark would hurry up and licence Hana (not to mention pretty much all of Kore-eda’s back catalogue!) for UK release, though…

Director Sion Sono follows up Exte: Hair Extensions with an equally unpredictable (nearly) four-hour epic love story… of sorts…

It’s not something you might expect, but Catholic religion seems to be taking something of a central role in Asian films lately. In Park Chan-wook’s Thirst he portrayed it as a surprisingly progressive (at least in comparison to our Western interpretation) faith, ready to accept and integrate a vampiric priest as part of God’s work. In Sion Sono’s Love Exposure it seems anything but, and as impenetrable and bizarre as any cult. However, both directors use it as the basis for their exploration of morals and sexual desire.

When Yu (Takahiro Nishijima) loses his mother at an early age, his father turns to becoming a Catholic priest in order to deal with his grief. If anything, his father’s new life brings them closer together, until a rather emotionally unstable parishioner seduces his father. This, in turn, causes his father to take out his guilt on Yu, he forces him to attend confession as often as possible. As he quickly runs out of false transgressions to own up to, he turns to finding new and real sins to confess – the most successful of which being taking clandestine ‘panty shots’ of women on the streets.

Such antics bring him to the attention of Aya Koike (Sakura Ando, Crime Or Punishment) – con artist, coke dealer and regional leader of a religious ‘Zero’ cult – who decides she can manipulate Yu to her own ends. Shortly after their meeting, he also encounters man-hating (bar Kurt Cobain) schoolgirl Yoko (Hikari Mitsushima, Shaolin Girl, Death Note: The Last Name, Death Note) and falls instantly in love with her (though at the time he’s disguised as a woman at the time due to losing a bet with his friends).

Then Yu finds out Yoko become his stepsister: can he ever reveal his identity and win her over – let alone his double life as the ‘King Of Perverts’ – or will he just be unwilling pawn in Aya’s plans?

At nearly four hours in length you might expect Love Exposure to be something of a mind-numbing (and bum-numbing!) experience, but Sion Sono’s titanic love story is anything but. It’s funny, quirky, and even poignant in places. There’s a clever use of pace, starting slow and eventually building itself into a frenzy in the first half – yet a strange lack of direction permeates the second half, undoing all his good work, and hardly making this the defining work of Sion’s career as some have suggested.

The allegedly bizarre cult (though for the main part depicted as little more outlandish than Catholicism itself) tantalisingly echoes that in 20th Century Boys. But before you go thinking that the film is about to reveal the same sort of overlapping complexities –particularly once Aya becomes involved – will find the latter half somewhat simplistic. If anything, Aya’s motives remain frustratingly unspoken, beyond her being as besotted with Yu as he is with Yoko.

(You might also find the whole ‘original sin’ shtick a bit obvious…)

Sion’s continual returning to the theme of parental abuse and neglect, oddly present in all the leads lives to varying degrees, hints at issues of his own he may well need to sort out. However, if that is the case he definitely brings no resolution to them here.

Perhaps the weakest element is the lack of on-screen chemistry between Takahiro Nishijima and Hikari Mitsushima. Takahiro quirky and (without meaning offense) somewhat effeminate looks may make him believable when he cross-dresses, but hardly as a suitable romantic interest for the feisty (at least initially) and unbelievably cute Hikari. Somehow, you can’t stop thinking she could do an awful lot better –not helped by the fact that Yu’s character is oddly not as sympathetic as it should be. If you’re going to stick with the film for nearly four hours, then you need to.

Ultimately, Sion hints at the quirkiness of Tetsuya Nakashima’s films like Kamikaze Girls and Memories Of Matsuko. He even does a pretty good job of it, making the length feel anything but four hours – but sadly without endearing you to his characters. And you don’t make a four-hour film just because you can.

In short, Love Exposure is interesting, likeable – even good in places – but not quite the masterpiece it might have been, had it carried on with the gusto of the first half.

Love Exposure will open at selected UK cinemas from 30 October, released by Third Window Films.

One of the worlds finest directors returns with a superb deconstructionist take on the Vampire myth…

It’s been a couple of years since Park Chan-wook’s I’m A Cyborg, But It’s Okay opened to somewhat mixed reactions. His visually delightful, if rather offbeat romantic comedy failed to find an audience even in South Korea, let alone the rest of the world. Seemingly audiences want something more obviously sinister from Park – not that I’m A Cyborg wasn’t riddled with darker themes – and that’s just what he’s given them in Thirst…

The remarkably versatile Kong Sang-ho, who appeared in Park’s breakthrough film JSA and Sympathy For Mr Vengeance, plays well-meaning Catholic priest Sang-hyun, a volunteer at a local hospital who decides to breakout of the endless cycle of human sadness by participating in an experiment to find a vaccine for the deadly Emmanuel Virus. The experiment fails, and Sang-hyun becomes fully infected with the disease, but after receiving a blood transfusion to save his life he finds he begins to recover astonishingly quickly.

News travels fast of Sang-hyun’s recovery, with devout parishioners camping outside church grounds, convinced he has great healing powers. Meanwhile the true nature of his recovery soon becomes clear as he finds himself drawn to human blood, and without it his virus quickly relapses. During this time he meets an old, childhood friend Kang-woo (Kong’s co-star in JSA and Sympathy Shin Ha-kyun) and becomes attracted to his downtrodden wife Tae-joo (Kim Ok-vin, Dasepo Naughty Girls, Voice/Yeogo gwae-dam 4).

That attraction soon grows into an affair between the two, but as Sang-hyun’s desire for Tae-joo grows, his hold over his own personal morality and the bloodthirsty urges he can only barely keep a hold on blurs, and he soon succumbs to the sins of the flesh…

(Readers beware – possible spoilers ahead…!)

Park describes the film as being some 10 years in the making. Initial sketches that Park had inspired a the central notion of a Catholic priest turned into a vampire, but it was an idea to marry these with Émile Zola’s 19th Century novel Thérèse Raquin that enabled him to bring Thirst to the screen. Oddly, if anything it echoes Sympathy for Mr Vengeance, and those recurring themes of the moral innocent, in this case the priest, corrupted by events and manipulation. The major difference being the redemption that was rarely a part of his earlier films.

After the ocular overload of I’m A Cyborg (which I highly recommended to anyone in the film or advertising media – those of you who haven’t already ripped it off – even if you can’t dig the rom-com elements) in comparison Thirst is a remarkably stripped down affair, even though Park once again collaborates with cinematographer Chung Chung-hoon, who’s been involved in every feature the director has made since Old Boy. If anything, the one thing it most obviously has in common is a more developed sense of Park’s black humour.

Around the grimly unpleasant, gory goings on Park drops in plenty of on screen laughs. Somehow the mix of ‘bodyshock’, almost David Cronenberg-esque horror – played up well thanks to a keen ear for unpleasant, gut-wrenching sounds – makes for an occasionally queasy watch. (Let’s face it – it’s not like Park Chan-wook has been known to pull back from what he shows on screen.) And yet it’s also often hilarious!

This time Park’s focus is far more on a simple telling of the story itself, rather than using flashy techniques or surprises. There are no flashbacks, for the first time since Sympathy For Mr Vengeance, and no last-minute reveals. The movie seems desaturated, under designed and almost as if it was filmed on a 70s film stock, but is still typically arresting. Park appears to have stripped the film of self-conscious effects to counter to the fantastic nature of the plot.

(Indeed, easily the least successful scene of the movie is the overly CGI’d scene where Sang-hyun chases a newly ‘turned’ Tae-joo leaping over the rooftops of the town. Again, the preposterous scene plays straight into a heightened awareness of Park’s humour, yet is utterly incongruous with the minimalist approach of the rest of the film. I hate the way human forms are animated in CGI!)

The lightness of touch is greatly helped by a fantastic ensemble cast including sterling performances including Kim Hae-sok as Tae-joo’s mother in law; Song Young-chang as Seung-dae, an aging Police chief and family friend (who appeared as Sang-ho’s marvellously overbearing bully of a boss in The Foul King); Park In-hwan (The Quiet Family) as blind mentor priest Noh; and Oh Dai-su. It allows Park to use fleeting glances to imply the back-story behind the characters without explanation, and just like that lack of flashbacks, he never feels the need to spoon feed the audience with a full explanation of what happen to Sang-hyun in the first place.

Oddly Tae-joo’s ‘godless’ character is ultimately without boundaries, she enjoys the full potential of her new-found powers with no boundaries, but Park’s sympathies seem to lie with Sang-hyun. There’s an implication here that you need faith or a religion to keep you in line? Her character’s manipulation of Sang-hyun echoes that of Kim Novak over James Stewart in Vertigo, or even Richard Todd’s deception over Jane Wyman in Stage Fright.

Coincidently a companion piece of sorts to Tomas Alfredson’s Let The Right One In – Park is keen to point out that he wasn’t aware of the resurgence of Vampires as a popular theme (don’t even think of mentioning Twilight!) – it mirror that films deconstruction of the vampire myth. Both owe much to the more adventurous, independent horror of the 70s. Films like George A. Romeo’s Martin and Kathyrn Bigelow’s Near Dark spring readily to mind, though– as we’ll reveal in our interview later in the week – it was a lesser-known film from the 80s that influenced Thirst.

Once again this is a fine piece of work from Park, and worthy of an audience beyond Asian film fans. My one criticism is that my sympathies don’t connect the characters, particularly the lead Sang-hyun, in the way that I’d ultimately hope they would. It’s surprising, considering that it’s Kong Sang-ho, undeniably one of the finest actors in film today. Not sure why….

But this is still a ‘must-see’!

Thirst is released in UK cinemas on Friday 16 October, with a DVD and Blu-ray release early in the new year from Palisades Tartan.

A poignant, funny and often challenging look at an unlikely romance between a mentally challenged ex-con and a woman suffering from cerebral palsy directed by Lee Chang-dong (Secret Sunshine, Green Fish)…

Released out of prison in the same summer clothing he was locked up in, the real world isn’t particularly kind to ex-con Jong-du (Sol Kyung-gu, Voice Of A Murderer, Public Enemy). His childlike inability to control his impulses has staked up a series of convictions. When he decides to pay a social visit to the family of the man he killed whilst drunk driving, and by chance meets and becomes fascinated by the man’s disabled daughter, Gong-ju (Moon So-ri, Bewitching attraction, A Good Lawyers Wife).

Returning to the apartment to see the girl, Jong-du loses control of his feelings for the girl, ending up sexually assaulting her. Despite this, the girl calls him at his workplace sand invites him to come over and visit him again. So begins a series of furtive encounters over which the pair begin to fall for each other. Yet, as two outcasts taken advantage of by their family and shunned by society, they are too innocent to realise that their love for each other will not be easily understood by anyone else.

Writer and director Lee Chang-dong’s (Peppermint Candy, Green Fish, Secret Sunshine) third film from 2002 pulls few punches in its storytelling. It’s a stark, cold reality, interspersed with sweet, tender fantasy scenes of how the romance could have been had the couple not been disabled, reminiscent of Ken Loach (though it’s always dangerous to make such comparisons). It’s most present in the everyday humour he brings to the plot; there are no heavily engineered devices to bring laughter, but instead touching reality that brings with it a share of both happy and sad moments.

Whilst challenging our perception of how those with disabilities should be treated, Chang-dong picks his way through the potential minefield. He avoids dodging the more difficult questions, instead heading into them straight on: can a person with disabilities have an adult relationship, or should they be protected? Who are families to tell them they are doing wrong, and so on. It’s a thin line Chang-dong treads, and one that relies totally on the believable performances of his leads.

Both Sol and Moon worked together in Chang-dong’s previous film Peppermint Candy, but here their role require far more from the. Moon in particular has to demonstrate an incredible physicality in her role, and in the telling behind-the-scenes ‘Making of’ documentary it takes an exceptional toll on her emotionally. Especially as – despite what you might expect from such a gritty, unflinching filming style – it becomes obvious director Chang-dong has such a specific vision in his head that he will retake a scene time after time until he get it right. (Which might well explain the five-year gap between Oasis and Secret Sunshine.)

Here his diligence is well-placed, for this is not a subject that can be dealt with half-heartedly without either making light of the situation, or becoming a rosy, glossy Americanised version where everyone gets along and learn there lessons on how to treat those with disabilities. It’s heart-rending to see the way both families exploit their relations in order to keep their status in society – and make a better life for themselves out of it.

Once again this shows a true commitment by Third Window Films to release films that are out of the usual line of sight for Asian releases in the UK, however celebrated they are or deserve to be released. After all, it’s seven years after the original release, five years after it was released in the US, and currently the only Lee Chang-dong film previously released in the UK was Green Fish (again by Third Window and even then only last year). Sure, it’s not altogether a comfortable watch – it makes you think like a good film should – yet it’s completely uplifting…

Oasis is released on DVD in the UK by Third Window Films on Monday 10 August.

This month Third Window continue to release Asian films that might otherwise get missed with two ‘offbeat’ Japanese comedies…

The first, Fine, Totally Fine, An amiable, well observed comedy surrounding perpetual slacker Teruo (Yosiyosi Arakawa, Tokyo, Memories Of Matsuko, Survive Style 5), his best friend Hisanobu (Yoshinori Okada, Dark Tales Of Japan, Kamikaze Girls), and the extremely clumsy Akari (Yoshino Kimura, Blindness, Sukiyaki Western Django).

Working as a park keeper and helping out in his father’s second-hand bookshop, Teruo dreams of creating the world’s scariest haunted house, often playing practical jokes on his friends. But when his father absconds to ‘find himself’, leaving Teruo to look after the shop and reluctantly begin to act his near 30 years of age.

His childhood friend Hisanbou, has become besotted with a cleaner he employed at the local hospital. Always a nice guy, he took pity on the unbelievably ham-fisted Akari, who can’t even open a box of tissues without resorting to stabbing them with a pair of scissors. She spends much of her spare time panting pictures she’s too afraid to show anyone else, and listening to cassette tapes of the rain. When that job doesn’t work out, Hisanbou finds her a job lending Teruo a hand in the bookstore, and Akari finally lands a job where her awkwardness doesn’t hold her back… completely!

Slowly Teruo also becomes smitten with Akari, but as the pair find themselves unlikely rivals for her affection, another unexpected suitor enters the ring.

Far from deliberate on the merits of growing up and acting your age, writer-director Yosuke Fujita’s debut feature is a celebration of the everyday eccentricities, dreams and diversions that make us who we are. Teruo’s straight-laced father returns from his trip with a trendy haircut and clothes, guitar and younger girlfriend in tow, only to up take his place back running the store.

Often absurd, if occasionally a little overly cartoonish, Yosuke let’s the uncomfortable situations breathe, using the slow pace to build on the embarrassment felt by all concerned (and the audience). It’s effectively done and impressive for a first feature.

It’s greatly helped by a strong cast, all palying up their characters peculiarities well, without them becoming unbelievable. Particularly Yosiyosi Arakawa, well cast as the goofy Teruo, he brings a level of pathos and even empathy for what could so easily have been an unsympathetic role.

Sure, it’s a comedy where not much happens – but it’s extremely well done.

From a far more dysfunctional family comes another debut feature from a writer-director, Daihachi Yoshida’s Funuke: Show Some Love, You Losers!

After the tragic death of her parents in a road accident, unsuccessful actress Sumiko Wago (Eriko Sato, Cutie Honey, Carved) returns home from Tokyo to visit her teenage sister Kyomi (Aimi Satsukawa, Naoko, Arch Angels), her step brother Shinji (Masatoshi Nagase, Sakuran, Mystery Train) and new wife Machiko (Hiromi Nagasaku, Closed Diary, Hanging Garden) in their folks countryside home.

Before too long, sibling rivalries and ongoing quarrels rise to the service. Intent on bleeding the last family assets dry to fund her ailing career; Sumiko blames Kyomi for her lack of success in the big city, having been the subject of a competition-winning manga by Kyomi that made her the laughing stock of the town.

The reason Sumiko made such good material for Kyomi’s manga, however, is her pathological ambition to become an actress: including threatening her parents at knifepoint to get them to fund her, and even stabbing her step brother.

Relationships become further complicated when Shinji realises he has not gotten over his affection for Sumiko, having never consummated his marriage to Machiko. With Sumiko’s behaviour becoming no less psychotic, it seems only her obsession with writing to a director in the hope he’ll offer her a part in his new film has any calming effect on her.

However, with Sumiko back in town, it’s hard for Kyomi not to be compelled by her perfect source material to begin drawing again. That peace is soon coming to an end…

Based on a novel by Yukiko Motoya, Daihachi Yoshida’s darkly comic feature is brought to life by a strong cast, particularly Eriko – who can also be seen as the super cutesy Cutie Honey this month. Playing up to her previous sexy roles, Eriko is compelling as a disarmingly deranged menace, dropping her vacant charm to show just how much of a monster even the most beautiful can be. Deservingly Eriko won an award for her performance at the Yokohama Film Festival in 2008 (in fact the film is laden with awards from festivals over the world).

Her performance echoes that of Bette Davis in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, and therein lies part of the problem with the tone of the film: the intimidation she puts her own sister through are on much the same level as what Davis’ character herself puts her sister Crawford through in Baby Jane. It’s more horror than comedy, and somehow some of the more absurdly comic elements just don’t mix with it.

Another element that doesn’t ring true – and this may be a fault of the source material – is the unbelievable naivety and cheeriness of Machiko, or perhaps it’s just that even in the films closing stages this character is still seen as a figure of fun and derision, so undeserving of compassion or happiness. Again, the cartoonish pitch of some elements fight with the very real, and all but deadly rivalry between the two sisters. (Perhaps I feel that way because she’s really the most sympathetic character in the film?)

That’s not to suggest Daihachi’s first film isn’t successful. It’s an intriguing, well-played look at one most seriously messed up family. Oddly the telling dénouement, that both sisters rely on each other for their careers (or at least will in the future), is underplayed.

Fine, Totally Fine and Funuke: Show Some Love, You Losers! are released by Third Window Films on 11 May. Funuke: Show Some Love, You Losers! is also currently playing at London’s ICA cinema until Sunday 10th May, with additional screenings on weekend of 16th and 17th May.