The Gingko Bed (1996)
After telling French film critic Adrien Gombeaud that I was working on an essay about the significance of Kang Je-gyu's film Shiri -- a piece that thankfully was never published since I was far from fully happy with what I wrote -- I received an email from him wanting to make sure I didn't forget to underscore the success of Kang's debut film The Gingko Bed. Gombeaud made this extra effort with me because he wanted Shiri placed in its proper context. He didn't need to worry because I too wanted to challenge portrayals of Shiri as something that 'came out of nowhere.' Shiri wasn't out of its element, but instead a fish in water, a moment waiting to happen.
And Kang's work on The Gingko Bed was as much a part of Korean Cinema's productive milieu than any other. The year 1996, in some ways, represents a moment of greater things simmering underneath celluloid packaging, all the ingredients were beginning to mix for a vibrant Korean cinema to soon emerge. Kang demonstrated his potential with a very respectable gross of roughly 450,000 Seoul admissions, the second highest grossing Korean film that year (behind Two Cops 2), and one of only two Korean films to finish the year in the top ten.
The Gingko Bed tells the tale of time-crossed lovers court musician Jung-mun (Han Suk-kyu -- Christmas In August, Shiri) and princess Mi-dan (Jin Hee-kyung -- Sweet Sixties) whose love for each other was severed by the possessive General Hwang (Shin Hyun-jun, as equally fully mascara-ed here as he is in Guns & Talks) over 1,000 years ago. Present day print-maker and art teacher Su-hyun (also played by Han Suk-kyu) is about to find out through strange dreams that he is the reincarnated soul of Jung-mun. These visionary dreams lead him to acquire a finely crafted and extremely heavy bed made from the wood of two gingko trees. The trees are alleged to be reincarnations of our two immortal lovers. General Hwang has resurfaced in the present day through stealing the heart of a rapist in order to track down and kill Su-hyun before Mi-dan can reach him. Mi-dan realizes human form temporarily through borrowing the body of a patient of Su-hyun's girlfriend, Dr. Ryu Sun-young (veteran actress Shim Hye-jin who would later star in yet another film about the past lives of a tree, Acacia). Unfortunately, Dr. Ryu pronounces this patient dead, so when Mi-dan returns his body, the patient's resurrection causes controversy for Dr. Ryu and her hospital.
The Gingko Bed is not my kinda film, too overly melodramatic too often, but I can see why it was so successful. The story maintains its internal logic for the most part while tapping into successful melodramatic tropes. This idea of reincarnated lovers will be used again and again in Korean Cinema in films such as Bungee Jumping of Their Own and The Classic. Further, stories of unattainable love, where some type of barrier limits the opportunities for a couple to consummate their love, e.g., Ditto, Il Mare, Failan, and, well, Shiri, turn up almost every year. I'm not claiming that The Gingko Bed "started" this trend. I haven't seen enough older Korean Films to make such a claim, and I assume the theme has been around for years. Still, The Gingko Bed's success may have made such stories more likely in the future. Still, The Gingko Bed may inhabit an interesting place within this genre since Dr. Ryu, along with being very self-actualized, eventually displays a interesting sympathy void of jealousy for her husband's time-crossing "affair." As for other aspects of the film, the suspense is held up well, buffered by the score when the action is lagging, although I personally didn't need the coda and wish it would have closed with the scene where all parties meet and Dr. Ryu attempts to clear her name. Considering the other films produced in 1996 that I've seen, the special effects utilized by Kang are decent, particularly when General Hwang steals the rapist's heart. Still, a scene of ancient decapitation had this child of Monty Python and The Holy Grail unintentionally laughing -- 'Tis a Flesh Wound!'.
Although Kang is not why I come to Korean Cinema, The Gingko Bed is my favorite of his three films. Taeguki may have proved to many that Shiri was no fluke, but The Gingko Bed shows the firmly rooted ground that Kang began upon prior to reaching the mountainous heights of the modern Korean blockbuster.
And Kang's work on The Gingko Bed was as much a part of Korean Cinema's productive milieu than any other. The year 1996, in some ways, represents a moment of greater things simmering underneath celluloid packaging, all the ingredients were beginning to mix for a vibrant Korean cinema to soon emerge. Kang demonstrated his potential with a very respectable gross of roughly 450,000 Seoul admissions, the second highest grossing Korean film that year (behind Two Cops 2), and one of only two Korean films to finish the year in the top ten. The Gingko Bed tells the tale of time-crossed lovers court musician Jung-mun (Han Suk-kyu -- Christmas In August, Shiri) and princess Mi-dan (Jin Hee-kyung -- Sweet Sixties) whose love for each other was severed by the possessive General Hwang (Shin Hyun-jun, as equally fully mascara-ed here as he is in Guns & Talks) over 1,000 years ago. Present day print-maker and art teacher Su-hyun (also played by Han Suk-kyu) is about to find out through strange dreams that he is the reincarnated soul of Jung-mun. These visionary dreams lead him to acquire a finely crafted and extremely heavy bed made from the wood of two gingko trees. The trees are alleged to be reincarnations of our two immortal lovers. General Hwang has resurfaced in the present day through stealing the heart of a rapist in order to track down and kill Su-hyun before Mi-dan can reach him. Mi-dan realizes human form temporarily through borrowing the body of a patient of Su-hyun's girlfriend, Dr. Ryu Sun-young (veteran actress Shim Hye-jin who would later star in yet another film about the past lives of a tree, Acacia). Unfortunately, Dr. Ryu pronounces this patient dead, so when Mi-dan returns his body, the patient's resurrection causes controversy for Dr. Ryu and her hospital.
The Gingko Bed is not my kinda film, too overly melodramatic too often, but I can see why it was so successful. The story maintains its internal logic for the most part while tapping into successful melodramatic tropes. This idea of reincarnated lovers will be used again and again in Korean Cinema in films such as Bungee Jumping of Their Own and The Classic. Further, stories of unattainable love, where some type of barrier limits the opportunities for a couple to consummate their love, e.g., Ditto, Il Mare, Failan, and, well, Shiri, turn up almost every year. I'm not claiming that The Gingko Bed "started" this trend. I haven't seen enough older Korean Films to make such a claim, and I assume the theme has been around for years. Still, The Gingko Bed's success may have made such stories more likely in the future. Still, The Gingko Bed may inhabit an interesting place within this genre since Dr. Ryu, along with being very self-actualized, eventually displays a interesting sympathy void of jealousy for her husband's time-crossing "affair." As for other aspects of the film, the suspense is held up well, buffered by the score when the action is lagging, although I personally didn't need the coda and wish it would have closed with the scene where all parties meet and Dr. Ryu attempts to clear her name. Considering the other films produced in 1996 that I've seen, the special effects utilized by Kang are decent, particularly when General Hwang steals the rapist's heart. Still, a scene of ancient decapitation had this child of Monty Python and The Holy Grail unintentionally laughing -- 'Tis a Flesh Wound!'.
Although Kang is not why I come to Korean Cinema, The Gingko Bed is my favorite of his three films. Taeguki may have proved to many that Shiri was no fluke, but The Gingko Bed shows the firmly rooted ground that Kang began upon prior to reaching the mountainous heights of the modern Korean blockbuster.
posted by Kbabe @ 3:00 AM
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