The Host

welsh

Junkmaster
Hey has anyone seen, the Host? What dod you think?

review?

The Host


/ / / March 9, 2007

Cast & CreditsPark Kang-Du: Song Kang-Ho
Park Hee-Bong: Byun Hee-Bong
Park Nam-Il: Park Hae-Il
Park Hyun-Seo: KoA-Sung
Park Nam-Joo: Bae Doo-Na
Mortician: Scott Wilson

Magnolia Pictures presents a film directed by Bong Joon-ho. Written by Bong, Ha Jun-weon and Baek Cheol-hyeon, from a story by Bong. In Korean with English subtitles. Running time: 119 minutes. Rated R (for creature violence and language). Opening today at Landmark Century.


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by Jim Emerson
Editor, RogerEbert.com

A horror thriller, a political satire, a dysfunctional family comedy, and a touching melodrama, Bong Joon-ho's "The Host" is also one helluva monster movie. This Korean-Japanese co-production is the recombinant offspring of all those science-fiction pictures of the 1950s and '60s in which exposure to atomic radiation (often referred to as both "atomic" and "radiation") or hazardous chemicals (sometimes also radioactive) results in something very large and inhospitable: "Them!" (giant ants), "Tarantula" (giant spider), "Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People" (giant fungi), "The Amazing Colossal Man" (giant bald guy), "The Giant Behemoth" (giant behemoth -- both giant and a behemoth, but more precisely a radioactive ocean-dwelling Godzilla clone), "Frankenstein Conquers the World" (giant Frankenstein's monster atomically regenerated from the beating heart of the original monster after the A-bomb is dropped on Hiroshima), and so on.

In "The Host" (a k a "Gwoemul"), the mutagen is a simple aldehyde, HCHO (possibly even a radioactive variety). The movie opens in the year 2000 at the Yongsan U.S. Army base in Seoul, where an American mortician (the always superb Scott Wilson, clearly having fun) orders a Korean subordinate to dump dusty bottles of "dirty formaldehyde" into the sink ... which empties into the Han River. When the underling objects, the American insists, "The Han River is very... broad, Mr. Kim. Let's try to be broad-minded about this." Had Al Gore been present, he would have made a persuasive counter-argument with colorful charts and graphs about the dangers of poisoning our fragile planet, but an order is an order, so down the drain the noxious stuff goes.

(This scene is based on a notorious incident involving Albert McFarland, an American civilian mortician at the Yongsan military base, who in 2000 ordered his staff to pour 120 liters of formaldehyde into the morgue's plumbing. Although the chemicals passed through two treatment plants before reaching the Han, source of Seoul's drinking water, the scandal sparked an anti-American uproar in South Korea.)

At the movie's center is the Park family, a clan no less eccentric than the Hoovers of "Little Miss Sunshine." (Think "Little Miss Sashimi.") Patriarch Park Hee-Bong (Byun Hee-Bong) runs a snack stand down by the river with his dim-bulb son Kang-Du (Song Kang-Ho). His other son is a chronically unemployed no-goodnik, Nam-Il (Park Hae-Il), from whom he is estranged. But if the boys in the brood are underachievers, the girls are something else: Their sister Nam-Joo (Bae Doo-Na) is an acclaimed archery champion, and Kang-Du's daughter Hyun-Seo (Ko A-Sung), an adorable plaid-skirted schoolgirl, is the apple of everyone's eye.

When the monster nabs a Park from the shore (in one of the best fleeing-in-panic crowd scenes ever filmed), the clan reunites to seek revenge. If only they can fight their way through the political red tape. The government's response to the monstrous threat is an American-backed disinformation campaign about an outbreak of "Asian flu" virus that, as is so often the case with official lies, only serves to exacerbate the real Terror.

The creature -- just like (spoiler warning) the Moroccan kids who accidentally shoot the American employer of the Mexican nanny with the rifle formerly belonging to the Japanese businessman with the deaf daughter who is sexually provocative in "Babel" (end of spoiler warning) -- unknowingly precipitates an international incident. And in the ensuing pandemonium, the Parks are forced to fend for themselves.

But about the monster. Created by the San Francisco-based FX house, The Orphanage, it is a creature of scary amphibious loveliness, with greenish salamanderlike skin, froggy legs and webbed feet, and a pinkish vagina dentata maw that resembles the primary orifice of an Arrakis sandworm, but with extra mandibles and barbed lip-flaps around the opening. (Nice serpentine tongue, too.) This is the most hideously beautiful movie-monster since H.R. Giger's Alien, equally ferocious and hard to kill, but with a poignant side. It is first seen (almost not-seen) hanging from the underside of a bridge like a fruit bat. A giant fruit bat. And, it turns out, it can not only swim and crawl and hop, it can swing and flip like an acrobat, using its tail as a trapeze.

The movie itself is no less dexterous (though it sags in the middle), twisting suddenly from horror to pathos to comedy to action and back again, as the Parks (individually and collectively) battle the forces that would tear them apart -- forces that not only include a giant mutant river monster, but hazmat teams, the police, mad scientists, government conspirators, and an American chemical weapon called "Agent Yellow."

Like its magnificent beast, "The Host" is wild, crazy, messy, preposterous -- and all the better for it.
 
I didn't realize it was out yet.

When I saw the trailer it looked like a fairly run-of-the-mill monster movie though.
 
I saw that on ebert, so I was going to pick it up at the local dvd store. :wink:

Korean films have been getting better these days, even since the run away hit of My Crazy girlfriend, My wife is a gangster, and a few horror hits here and there. The cannibal one that aired some years back was pretty good. It has started to find its own voice instead of just mimicking HK or Japanese movies.

Actually, I also wanted to see this:

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070104/REVIEWS/701040301/1023

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

By Roger Ebert / January 5, 2007



Cast & Credits
Grenouille: Ben Whishaw
Baldini: Dustin Hoffman
Richis: Alan Rickman
Narrator: John Hurt
Laura: Rachel Hurd-Wood
The Plum Girl: Karoline Herfurth
Bishop of Grasse: David Calder

Paramount Pictures presents a film directed by Tom Tykwer. Written by Andrew Birkin, Bernd Eichinger and Tykwer. Based on the novel by Patrick Suskind. Running time: 145 minutes. Rated R (for aberrant behavior involving nudity, violence, sexuality and disturbing images). Opening today at Landmark Century.

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Not only does "Perfume" seem impossible to film, it must have been amost impossible for Patrick Suskind to write. How do you describe the ineffable enigma of a scent in words? The audiobook, read by Sean Barrett, is the best audio performance I have ever heard; he snuffles and sniffles his way to greatness and you almost believe he is inhaling bliss, or the essence of a stone. I once almost destroyed a dinner party by putting it on for "five minutes," after which nobody wanted to stop listening.

Patrick Suskind's famous novel involves a twisted little foundling whose fishwife mother casually births him while chopping off cod heads. He falls neglected into the stinking charnel house that was Paris 300 years ago, and is nearly thrown out with the refuse. But Grenouille grows into a grim, taciturn survivor (Ben Whishaw), who possesses two extraordinary qualities: he has the most acute sense of smell in the world, and has absolutely no scent of his own.

This last attribute is ascribed by legend to the spawn of the devil, but the movie "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" makes no mention of this possibility, wisely limiting itself to vile if unnamed evil. Grenouille grows up as a tanner, voluptuously inhaling the world's smells, and eventually talks himself into an apprenticeship with Baldini (Dustin Hoffman), a master perfumer, now past his prime, whose shop is on an overcrowded medieval bridge on the Seine.

Mention of the bridge evokes the genius with which director Tom Tykwer ("Run, Lola, Run") evokes a medieval world of gross vices, all-pervading stinks and crude appetites. In this world, perfume is like the passage of an angel -- some people think, literally. Grenouille effortlessly invents perfect perfumes, but his ambition runs deeper; he wants to distill the essence of copper, stone and beauty itself. In pursuit of this last ideal he becomes a gruesome murderer.

Baldini tells him the world center of the perfume art is in Grasse, in Southern France, and so he walks there. I was there once myself, during the Cannes festival, and at Sandra Schulberg's villa met les nez de Grasse, "the noses of Grasse," the men whose tastes enforce the standards of a global industry. They sat dressed in neat business suits around a table bearing a cheese, which they regarded with an interest I could only imagine. On the lawn, young folk frolicked on bed sheets strewn with rose petals. You really must try it sometime.

It is in the nature of creatures like Grenouille (I suppose) that they have no friends. Indeed he has few conversations, and they are rudimentary. His life, as it must be, is almost entirely interior, so Twyker provides a narrator (John Hurt) to establish certain events and facts. Even then, the film is essentially visual, not spoken, and does a remarkable job of establishing Grenouille and his world. We can never really understand him, but we and cannot tear our eyes away.

"Perfume" begins in the stink of the gutter and remains dark and brooding. To rob a person of his scent is cruel enough, but the way it is done in this story is truly macabre. Still it can be said that Grenouille is driven by the conditions of his life and the nature of his spirit. Also, of course, that he may indeed be the devil's spawn.

This is a dark, dark, dark film, focused on an obsession so complete and lonely it shuts out all other human experience. You may not savor it, but you will not stop watching it, in horror and fascination. Whishaw succeeds in giving us no hint of his character save a deep savage need. And Dustin Hoffman produces a quirky old master whose life is also governed by perfume, if more positively. Hoffman reminds us here again, as in "Stranger than Fiction," what a detailed and fascinating character actor he is, able to bring to the story of Grenouille precisely what humor and humanity it needs, and then tactfully leaving it at that. Even his exit is nicely timed.

Why I love this story, I do not know. Why I have read the book twice and given away a dozen copies of the audiobook, I cannot explain. There is nothing fun about the story, except the way it ventures so fearlessly down one limited, terrifying, seductive dead end, and finds there a solution both sublime and horrifying. It took imagination to tell it, courage to film it, thought to act it, and from the audience it requires a brave curiosity about the peculiarity of obsession.
 
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