Old Boy
I just returned from a matinee of the Korean winner of the Cannes Grand Prix, Oldboy, at the arty theater in downtown Madison. Yes, I realize that the movie is old news, and I justify my own tardiness in getting to it by pointing out that (a) it takes longer for foreign films to come to the Midwest; and (b) I pretty much suck, and I often blame the Midwest (which, in my experience, is actually pretty efficient) for my own laziness and indolence.
More info and brief, unimportant, but disturbing spoilers in the extended entry.
Oldboy is the sort of movie that a critic might claim to have "the bulldozing nerve and full-blooded passion of a classic" in large part because "Holy fucking shit," the most coherent reaction I could come up with, seems a little trite.
By the time that an impromptu surgeon severed a tongue late in the movie, I had to admit a bit of surprise that there any body parts that hadn't yet been violated. Hands, teeth, feet, not to mention the ubiquitous anti-genital attacks that act as narrative glue for Japanese comic books (one of which was the basis for the film): there's an amputation for nearly every taste.
Of course, the extraordinarily long, single-shot fight scene, during which Choi Min-Sik takes out what appears to be a small army in a hallway, has the bulldozing nerve and full-blooded passion of a classic.
To sum up: Holy fucking shit.
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