A Single Spark (1995)

Films about historical figures are mostly spoiler-free since the story being told is public knowledge. It was expected that any review of Titanic would talk about the ship sinking. So the majority of people going to see Park Kwang-su's biopic A Single Spark know what they'll witness at the end. The film chronicles the life of labor activist, Chun Tae-il. Anyone who is even only slightly aware of his legacy knows that he set himself on fire in protest of labor law violations. And for those who don't, the DVD cover design and the images before the DVD menu comes up show Chun in fire-y flight. Plus, Park himself alludes to the climactic scene immediately in the opening sequence. I'm glad this is the case, because the scenes of Chun's self-immolation in Park's film are perhaps the most indelible images in all of South Korean Cinema and it would be hard to restrain myself from not talking about these images here.

A Single Spark is Park's most commercially successful film so far, and the topic played a huge part in this success. Chun Tae-il was a labor activist in the late 1960's who exposed the horrendous conditions at the sweatshops run at Seoul Peace Market. In organizing against such conditions, one was by association organizing against the oppressive government of Park Chung-hee. Michael Breen has noted when describing the shamanistic traditions underlying Korean culture that "The worst thing the living can do to someone they hate is commit suicide because of him." And in 1970, the 23 year-old Chun Tae-il followed this philosophy and set himself on fire from the flames of a burning book of Korean labor law, chanting slogans such as "Comply with labor law!" and "We are not machines!". This act solidified Chun as a rallying cry of protest against the South Korean regimes and policies of the 70's and 80's to the point where fire extinguishers became regular gear for Korean police at such protests.

Park has structured the film within two slightly different times periods, representing Chun's life (here portrayed by Hong Kyeong-in of Our Twisted Hero and Hi, Dharma!) in black and white while, five years later, the life of an underground intellectual writing a biography of Chun's life, named Kim Sang-jin (Moon Sung-keun of The Black Republic, To You From Me, Green Fish), is portrayed in color. (The author character in this film is a fictional character. According to Korean film scholar Kyung Hyun Kim, the real-life writer of the influential biography of Chun is believed to have been ghost written by a human rights lawyer and underground intellectual named Cho Yang-nae.) Kim and his wife (Kim Sun-jae) are being followed by the police for their own involvement in the labor movement. Juxtaposing Chun's and Kim's life, Park underscores how "nothing has changed in five years" since Chun's death. And by releasing the film in 1996, Park appears to request that we reflect on what has and hasn't changed in our present moment.

I am not completely clear how the film's dialogue falls on Korean ears - and being that the screenplay is written by none other than Lee Chang Dong (director of Green Fish, Peppermint Candy, and Oasis) and the fact that Kyung Hyun Kim translates one of the slogans Chun screams while burning as "Do not waste my life!" when the English subtitles never provide such a translation, I am hesitant to lay any blame on Lee for the dialogue problems - but the English translation errs where many political biopics fail. That is, dialogue that comes off as didactic in efforts to emphasize certain political points and important moments in the life of the political figure. Park and Lee want to chronicle a great deal here, such as the tuberculosis that ran rampant in the poor ventilation of the sweatshops, the enforced injections of amphetamines to keep sleep-deprived workers awake, and all the poignant discussions at secret labor meetings. But their efforts to cover so much ground result in the dialogue telling us what to think rather than letting the audience come to their own interpretations while watching each scene. For the scenes with the most power are the ones where we are left to figure things out for ourselves, such as the scene where Chun lies in a self-made grave or when Kim, still hiding from authorities, sneaks a view of his pregnant wife in order to send each other dialogue-less 'I love you's and 'don't give up's merely by the expressions on their faces. The black and white scenes are the most beautiful in this film, but the scenes of all hues are greatly enhanced by Song Hong-seob's score, presenting pre-Boards of Canada warbles for the contemplative scenes and percussive pieces - reminiscent of Peter Gabriel's ode to South African activist Stephen Biko - sounding like heartbeats resonating from the character on screen.

The most beautiful shot, and the one exploited in the film's marketing, is that of Chun's self-immolation. Yet portraying such a horrible culmination of a young life, however politically motivated, with such beauty is ironic since setting one's self on fire isn't pretty. And for all Chun's deification here, it is truly saddening that he had to take this step to speak out against the injustices to have the impact he did. However, character Kim Sang-jin's worries that Chun's work would be forgotten have been made much less likely with the memorable images of his life that director Park Kwang-su has provided in A Single Spark. (Adam Hartzell)


A Single Spark ("Areumdaun cheongnyeon Jeon Tae-il") Directed by Park Kwang-su. Screenplay by Lee Chang-dong, Kim Jeong-hwan, Yi Hyo-in, Hur Jin-ho, Park Kwang-su. Starring Hong Kyung-in, Moon Sung-keun, Kim Seon-jae, Lee Ju-sil, Myung Kay-nam, Dokko Young-jae, An So-young, Kim Seung-soo. Cinematography by Yoo Young-gil. Produced by Keyweck Shidae. 96 min, 35mm, color/b&w. Rating received on November 13, 1995. Released on November 18, 1995. Total admissions: 235,935. Presented at the 46th Berlin International Film Festival.