When thought-provoking titles from prestigious film festivals start trickling onto screens, it signals the end of the summer movie season. Or that was the traditional model until the summer season moved to April, and effects-heavy action films started invading the likes of the Cannes Film Festival.
Na Hong-jin’s epic, science-fiction actioner Hope made waves when a so-called journalist insulted the cast with, at best, poor preparation or, at worst, dismissive racism and misogyny at a news conference at Cannes in May, but Na and his starry cast got the last laugh by turning in one of the year’s best entertainments. Ironically, it seems as if perpetual competitor Pedro Almodóvar’s confrontational years are behind him, given his second dive into reflective, internal storytelling about filmmaking, creativity and memory, after 2019’s Pain and Glory, in Bitter Christmas.
Almodóvar’s alter ego this time is Raúl (Leonardo Sbaraglia), an aging director who is only himself when he’s making a film. He’s writing a screenplay about the dramatic life of a filmmaker, Elsa (Bárbara Lennie), loosely based on himself. Elsa is an amalgam of people from Raúl’s life, however, and a big part of the character is based on his tireless assistant, Monica (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón). When Monica reads the final draft, she’s enraged by some of the details, putting her and Raúl at artistic odds.
ALSO READ: Hometown proud
Bitter Christmas is another impeccably color-blocked dissection of truth, fiction, and the ethics of using a collective past to make art. Almodóvar’s usual cast of actors is generously sprinkled into the film. And though all of those things might appeal to his fans, they only serve to remind the rest of us of a better, more biting, more insightful Almodóvar from the years gone by. Bitter Christmas isn’t bitter enough to sit in the upper range of the director’s body of work, but it does have flashes of his typical rapid-fire banter among really smart people, though their wit and rage and fear is often concealed within the film’s overly complex — some would say precious — film within a film construct. That said, middling Almodóvar is better than a lot of filmmakers’ best.
In some ways, Na also falls back on patterns and conventions familiar from his other films, most notably The Wailing (2016). However, unlike Almodóvar this year, Na has made a familiar story feel new, injecting it with some of the best white-knuckle action of the year, and in doing so demonstrates that he’s a director at the top of his game. Hope exploits all aspects of filmmaking — sound, visuals, character, production design — to nearly perfect effect. Early reviews out of Cannes fixated on the film’s “shoddy” CGI. Na’s response was that in the rush to make it to Cannes, the film could not be “completely finished”. Be that as it may, when a film tells an engaging story, in a creative way and with such confidence, a little shoddy computer-generated imagery is forgivable.
ALSO READ: Extreme measures
In the border town of Hope Harbor, seemingly in the ’70s, Police Chief Bum-seok (superstar Hwang Jung-min) answers a call from some farmers about a mutilated cow. Minutes later, he finds himself in pursuit of a mysterious, deadly creature that’s tearing up the town, along with his frazzled but fearless deputy, Sung-ae (Jung Ho-yeon, Squid Game) and his cousin Sung-ki (Zo In-sung), a hunter chasing the creature through the forest.
Hope begins with the strongest opening 45 minutes of the year and never lets up for its perfectly paced three hours. The best way to experience it is by knowing as little as possible, but it’s no spoiler to say that the screen teems with tactile details, efficiently-drawn characters worth rooting for, dark comedy and genuine surprises. Hwang leads the way with a career-best performance as the small-town sheriff facing an unknown threat, elevating an archetype along the way.
The writer is a freelance contributor to China Daily.
