Reviewed by Lizzie Husher
Stars Yang Ik-Joon, Kot-bi Kim, Man-shik Jeong, Lee Hwan, Sang-won Kim, Jin-suk Lee, Seung-yeo Lee, Jeong-sun Parkm Seon-bin Kim, Byeong-eun Park, Seung-il Hong
Written by Yank Ik-Joon
Certification UK 18
Runtime 130 minutes
Directed by Yang Ik-Joon
An attack on the senses and from the very beginning to the very end, Breathless is a masterfully brutal and biting look at two dysfunctional and unhappy families in a South Korean city.
Sang-hoon (Yang Ik-joon) is at the centre of this drama, a frustrated and resentful young man whose work at a debt-collecting firm and his spare time are coloured by his habitual and unashamed violent outbursts. Ill-gotten money and aggression are the only things he seems to bless his family with, who consist of a half-sister and her son, and a broken father, recently released from jail, whom Sang-hoon blames for the violent deaths of his mother and sister. It seems Sang-hoon has met his obstinate match when he runs into teenage schoolgirl Yeon-Hue (Kot-bi Kim), a fellow product of a psychologically damaged and violent family. He soon strikes up an unlikely friendship with the young girl, yet soon their lives are to be linked in a way that they would never have anticipated.
We know from the very first scene that this is a complex film with a very complex central character; Sang-hoon intervenes as a man beats up his girlfriend in a city street, only to admonish the poor girl for putting up with her boyfriend’s beating by giving her a beating himself. This is not your average angry protagonist, on occasion you may find yourself glancing around the cinema auditorium to gauge what your own reaction to the character should be, and you wouldn’t be blamed. But despite Sang-hoon’s unrelenting propensity for attacking those around him with foul language and fists, he’s enigmatic, and there are moments when his violent actions seem to represent an affectionate desire to connect to another person in some way. The wrestling and name calling with his young nephew is inappropriate, but is at times almost sweet in its obvious suggestion of attachment; aggression is the only contact Sang-hoon really knows.
The acting is faultless all round, and Yang Ik-Joon must command even more respect for writing, directing, producing and starring in the film. Among some fairly emotional performances there is also a little subtle comic relief in the form of Sang-hoon’s boss Man-Sik (Man-shik Jeong) who’s gradually tiring of Sang-hoon’s repeated beatings of his colleagues (and who is a dead-ringer for an Asian Tony Hadley – no? just me?).
Unfortunately, as with many of the Eastern subtitled films, there may be something lost in translation; there is a messy confusion of Americanisms and language intended for English consumption, which might prompt you to wish that you understood Korean. The film is also probably half an hour too long and Ik-joon doesn’t always subscribe to the less is more policy; the scene with the two central characters on the steps for example, would have had more impact if it had been cut by about 20 seconds, and there are several more scenes that would have benefitted from shortening.
Yet this is a beautifully made and very haunting film, the violence may shock but it does so in order that we may appreciate the tender moments all the more.