The Coast Guard (2002)

Despite being one of the most well known South Koran filmmakers to adventurous fans of cinema and winning multiple awards at various festivals throughout the years, even taking the top prize, the Golden Lion, in Venice in 2012, in his home country Kim Ki-duk remains a bit of a pariah. Kim’s peculiar way of exposing aspects of Korean society he takes issue, which Kim himself described in a sardonic e-mail to the South Korean press as “uncovering the genitals that everyone wants to hide”, hasn’t exactly done him any favors and at one point in time Kim even suggested that he wouldn’t even seek any distribution in South Korea anymore. In that same e-mail, Kim hilariously stated “I apologize for exaggerating hideous and dark aspects of Korean society and insulting excellent Korean filmmakers with my works that ape arthouse cinema but are, in fact, but self-tortured pieces of masturbations, or maybe they're just garbage. Now I realize I am seriously mentally-challenged and inadequate for life in Korea.” Given his tendency to gravitate towards dark and challenging material, its unsurprising that Kim would center a film on war and the military, first with Address Unknown (2001) and later with The Coast Guard in 2002, a potent film tackling an incredibly loaded subject, the tension on the border between North and South Korea, filtered through Kim’s typically lethal and ultimately morose approach to human psychology.

Stationed at the coastline separating North and South Korea, Private Kang, an enthusiastic young solider is obsessed with catching a spy from the north, which he and all other members of his unit are given strict orders to shoot should they observe one. One night while Kang is on watch, two young lover cross over into a restricted area for a romantic rendezvous and Kang, believing them to be spies, unloads his rifle, killing the boy. Although rewarded with a weeks leave and congratulated for following his duty, Kang is unable to come to terms with having murdered an innocent civilian and is eventually discharged while Mi-yeong, the girlfriend of the man shot by Kang, has lost all touch with reality and begins returning to the military base, sleeping with all the soldiers. Unable to adjust with life outside the military, Kang too comes unhinged and after being turned away from the base after multiple attempts to return becomes murderous.

Kim’s films are often open ended in nature and although The Coast Guard (Hae Anseon, 해안선) features plenty of Kim’s trademark abstract imagery and is highly symbolic, what makes The Coast Guard stand out amongst some of Kim’s other films is that not too much is left to the imagination in regards to its main ideas. Obviously the most noticeable thing regarding the film is Kim’s antagonistic approach to South Korea’s mandatory military service and jingoism. Although the film never crosses over into Starship Troopers (1997) territory in its portrayal of hyper-militarism, its potentially dangerous effects are ever present, making the central story of Kang and his mental collapse all the more interesting. Given that Kim presents Kang’s mindset before his murdering of a civilian in a rather negative light, it begs the question of whether or not Kang’s psychological ordeal is intended to be sympathetic or not. This is of course in sharp contrast to the films other central story, that of Mi-yeong, who’s descent into madness following her boyfriends murder is undeniably tragic, with her repeated visits to the military base giving way to one of the films most unforgettable moments. Kim’s surrealistic imagery makes its appearances when he’s focusing solely on Mi-yeong, scenes which, despite being melancholic due to her mental state, also have a strange innocence to them, as if her insanity has freed her, if only temporarily as opposed to Kang, who’s torment eventually brings him to the streets of Seoul for one of Kim’s most memorable finales.

On the North American DVD release, Kim discusses his intentions in making the film, stating “The film talks about the tragedies that have become part of our lives as we live in a divided country. All young men still have mandatory military service, and many of those men protect the coastal borders in order to strop North Korean spies from infiltrating the South. In reality, it has been confirmed that we haven’t had any spies since the year 2000. But we still continue to put these young men through hardship after hardship in order to protect our borders. I wanted to show, through this film, the cycle of pain that we often incur upon ourselves in this situation. The same kinds of things can occur not only in Korea but also in the United States, when you are always preparing to attack and trying to defend during wartime. I wanted to show that you can’t really be happy during such times.” In a way the film couldn’t have been more timely and from a purely socio-political angle, the film is still as relevant as it was in 2002 and never once does the film, or Kim for that matter, come across as self-righteous of preachy. Perhaps a bit more talkative than most of Kim’s other work, The Coast Guard is nevertheless quintessential Kim, provocative, even quite brutal at times but most importantly, heartfelt.

Al Pereira vs. the Alligator Ladies (2012)

The passing of Jess Franco on April 2, 2013 left a significant void in the world of not simply cult cinema but cinema as a whole. While the digital revolution and availability of increasingly affordable equipment made it possible for virtually anybody to make a movie and allowed already established filmmakers more creative freedom, Franco operated throughout his entire career with a sense of individuality the likes of which are nearly impossible to replicate. Aside from a brief stint of inactivity in the 90's, Franco's exhaustively prolific way of working was a key contributor to his aforementioned individuality and when digital video came into play in Franco's later years during the late 90's, it allowed Franco to become prolific again. Armed with a digital camera and ambition, Franco helmed some of the most bizarre, divisive and most importantly, unfiltered films of his career, throwing every possible convention of traditional filmmaking out the window even moreso than he had in the past in favor of stream of consciousness visual and narrative experimentation. Not even the passing of his companion in life and film Lina Romay in February of 2012 could stop Franco. Released just months before his death, Franco's final feature Al Pereira vs. the Alligator Ladies is the product of a determined artist filming through a mirror, drawing on the past while still pushing forward with a defiant and oftentimes mesmerizing final statement.

The film may be as far from conventionally plotted as possible with Franco going off on many a tangent throughout, though the film does have an incredibly vague core idea that Franco uses as a catalyst, centering the film around the titular Al Pereira (Antonio Mayans). A reoccurring Franco character, the once philandering private detective now walks the straight and narrow, however his newfound clean lifestyle is challenged by the “Alligator Ladies” (Irene Verdú, Carmen Montes, Paula Davis), the daughters of the diabolical Fu Manchu, who set out to lure Pereira back into his former hedonistic lifestyle.

A self-reflexive film within a film within a fever dream, Al Pereira vs. the Alligator Ladies could been seen as Franco painting a cinematic self-portrait. Given that the film is so entrenched in Franco's personal mythology, things such as the use of Lina Romay's “Candy Coaster” alter-ego wig, the titular Alligator Ladies being the daughters of Fu Manchu or the repeated use of an acoustic instrumental version of “Madeira Love”, a song which was heard numerous times throughout The Other Side of the Mirror (1973), a good portion of the references are bound to completely fly over the head of anyone that's not a devoted Francophile, but the film offers plenty of rewards to anyone going into the film blind to Franco's world and can handle the films blatant disregard for convention and many moments of bewildering surrealism. In a lot of ways the film is also a documentary of sorts on the making of a Franco film, with several scenes featuring Franco and the cast rehearsing or discussing the scene which immediately follows, while the shots of Mayans writhing around in bed give the impression that none of the events are actually occurring in reality at all. While not as visually abstract as a lot of Franco's later films with only a few instances of post-production image distortion, which was common in several of Franco's video features, the film benefits greatly from being lensed in digital HD with eye popping lighting, making it the best looking of all Franco's later digital productions.

Incredibly, although hardly surprising, Al Pereira vs. the Alligator Ladies was never intended by Franco to be his last film as a sequel was planned and additional footage was shot and eventually completed by leading man Antonio Mayans and released as Revenge of the Alligator Ladies (2013). Revenge also featured Irene Verdú, Carmen Montes and Paula Davis as the alligator ladies and they must be praised for their work in the first film. Montes was one of Franco's greatest discoveries during his digital era and par for the course is great in Alligator Ladies but its newcomer to the Franco fold Irene Verdú who stands out the most with an uninhibited attitude and incredible screen presence. Al Pereira vs. the Alligator Ladies also had the distinction of playing theatrically for a few screenings which was the first for a Franco film in a good while with all his work from the late 90's onward going direct to video. The film even premiered at the Sitges Film Festival, Spain's premiere genre film festival which couldn't have been a more perfect place for the debut of the final film from Spain's premiere genre filmmaker. Divisive as both the film and its director are, Al Pereira vs. the Alligator Ladies does truly mark the end of an era, closing out the career of possibly the most independent spirit to ever call “Action!”. Truly an important film.