Gagman

Gagman (개그맨), Lee Myeong-se's directorial debut of 1988 (or 1989, depends on who you ask; I'm trusting KOFA on this one), is the next feature in the Korean Movie Classics Collection. As noted above, this is a second collaboration of Lee, co-writer (and, here, co-star) Bae Chang-ho, and actors Ahn Sung-ki and Hwang Shin-hye, following but entirely unrelated to the 1987 melodrama Our Joyful Young Days. It's difficult to find just one little box in which to classify this action-comedy-gangster-Hollywood tribute-fantasy film. At least for 1988 in South Korea, it was one of a kind, and a terrific film (that, evidently, nobody saw.)

Ahn plays Lee Jong-sae, a nightclub comic/emcee who has based his act on Chaplin's Little Tramp to such a degree that his own personality has become subsumed into it. Despite taking on the outward appearance, and some of the mannerisms, of the Tramp, he does not aspire to the stardom of his idol. Instead, he sees himself as a director, a true genius of the cinema in an age that has forgotten what genius looks like. (This, despite the fact that his film career consists of having sent one script to one studio, without response.) While performing his silent Chaplin-homage routine on stage, his internal monologue is lamenting that "this great world of ours [has] come to value wads of cash over true feeling and romance" becoming a "barren, lifeless, and emotionless wasteland. What can a genius like myself do for times like these?" he asks himself while twirling an imaginary cane and mugging for his not-very-attentive audience. Lee, the film's narrator, occupies a world that is a mixture of reality and fantasy, and as he can no longer clearly discern the dividing line, neither can we.

His barber, Moon Do-seok (Bae), quickly falls into Lee's mixed-up world when Lee suggests that Moon should star in his next picture. Moon, who wants nothing more than to be a movie star ("I started watching movies from the time I was conceived," he says), immediately sells his shop, has eyelid surgery, and places himself completely at Lee's disposal. Moon's main talent, apart from shaving Lee's forehead, appears to be bathroom-going. It can be inferred that, shall we say, he does not possess a complete supply of hot towels.

Unable to make any headway at the studio (where he is viewed as a trespasser), Lee takes refuge in a cinema one afternoon to enjoy a screening of Coppola's The Cotton Club, when the beautiful Oh Sun-young (Hwang) literally drops into his lap. She is on the run from her gangster boyfriends, and cajoles Lee into letting her come home with him. Once there, she takes up residence among the many movie posters and pieces of Chaplin memorabilia, agrees that she should star in his picture, and generally starts minxing her way around like, well, like a fantasy.

One evening when Lee is rehearsing his routine in the closed nightclub, he is interrupted by a deserting soldier who gives him his weapons and ammunition before disappearing (literally, exiting, stage right.) Back at the apartment, Sun-young discovers the firearms and suggests that he should use them to rob a bank, thereby acquiring the capital to finance his film which will make her a star. At this point, the film swings from a broad comedy to a gangster picture, albeit a comedic one, seeing as they are a terrifically inept gang. We follow their criminal career to its end, which I won't spoil for you here.

Overall, the film is great fun from start to finish, and the final scene contains a twist that makes you reconsider everything that went on before it in a new light. The performances are first rate. Ahn is consigned to playing a character who is playing a character, never an easy task, but after a while you stop seeing Chaplin and start seeing Lee, and that is tough to do. Hwang is excellent as the young gangster's moll who is also the brains of the outfit. Bae, in one of just three on-screen appearances of his career, is riotous in his role as the village idiot.

Lee Myeong-se has gone on to direct a total of eight features, one every few years or so, including 1999's critically acclaimed Nowhere to Hide (again with Ahn). Gagman is presented in an anamorphically enhanced 1.85:1 ratio, with a Dolby Digital stereo track, and both are excellent. Less good are the subtitles, which are complete and well-timed but exhibit a fair number of typos. Not Panorama-bad, mind you--there was an Anglophone involved somewhere in the process--but they are a little distracting. Unlike the first two DVDs in the box, here there is no commentary track, as the extra features are limited to a trailer, poster, and small photo gallery.