Foreign Film Friday

_______________________________

A foreign film review by Chris White

BARCELONA

Written & Directed by Whit Stillman

Many fans of 90’s art house phenom, Whit Stillman, dismiss the second of the writer-director's “young-yuppies” trilogy as uneven.

Indeed, METEROPOLITAN (1990) and THE LAST DAYS OF DISCO (1998) are both brilliantly written and acted films, but “middle-child” BARCELONA is more heartfelt.

The story follows the arrival of Naval officer Fred (Chris Eigeman) who has come to Barcelona to do “advance work” for the impending arrival of the American fleet. Fred crashes at his corporate salesman cousin Ted’s (Taylor Nichols) flat.

Nichols and Eigeman are perfect voices to Stillman’s muse. Here, on the heels of breakout METROPOLITAN, they prove to be valid big-screen buddy-comics…in the tradition of Woody Allen and Tony Roberts in ANNIE HALL (1977).

Whereas Stillman’s other films tread softly (though purposefully) through the pleasant terrain of comedy of manners, in BARCELONA, things eventually get physical, dangerous. What begins as a witty, cross-cultural dialogue becomes far more aggressive…then violent.

BARCELONA is about the bright possibilities of being smart, attractive, and actively engaged with a fascinating foreign culture, growing grayer, wiser. It is certainly a funny and entertaining film, yet its brilliance lies in a surprise punch landed squarely on the eye. And the inevitable sorting out that follows.

1994 \\ Color \\ 101 min.

Castle Rock Entertainment

COUNTRY OF PRODUCTION: Spain

Hot For Teacher. Part II

In my mind, Henry Adair is the definition of principal.  He is a large man.  Not overweight.  LARGE.  Intimidating.  He is a man who is feared.  Not in a bad way, as if his fuse may run short at any minute, but in a good, respectful way. 

Mr. Adair was the last principal I ever had.  Westside High School.  Anderson, SC.  Every year when the new class of freshman arrives to begin high school, Mr. Adair herds them into the gymnasium for a welcoming speech.  The auditorium is full.  Hundreds of students, teachers, and Anderson School District 5 personnel. He stands alone.  Staring down the mass of people.  The address always ends with...

“I’VE BEEN TO VIETNAM AND BACK!  I AIN’T AFRAID OF NOTHING!!  AND IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, STEP DOWN HERE AND SAY IT TO MY FACE!  I DARE YOU!!

Silence. 

Mr. Adair was our fearless leader.  A gentleman.  Our biggest supporter and advocate.  He cared about us.  He expected great things from us.  He didn’t tolerate anything.  Anything.

Mr. Adair owned that school.

And now that I’m a teacher, I’ve decided it’s all overrated.  The world needs more principals like mine.  Buseok Elementary School is where it’s at. 

We need more principals who are not passive.  Who lead the charge.  Like when we have a dinner for all the teachers.  My principal is the first one to order Soju (19.3% Korean liquor).  He pours shots with a passion.  He won’t rest until every teacher around the table has emptied his or her glass.

We need more principals who support the arts.  Like when he’s had his fair share of alcohol and informs everyone that the party will now proceed to the karaoke bar down the street.  He is always encouraging when we express ourselves through song.  And when we don’t want to, our glass is filled.  Again.

We need more principals who are responsible.  Like last December when we had a holiday faculty party at school.  There was too much beer and Soju to count.  At school.  But my principal set the example by catching a ride to school with a teacher, probably in his mid 20’s, because he knew he would be unable to drive a car when he left at 9 o’clock that night. 

We need more principals who set a healthy example for the students.  Like when my principal smokes a pack a day in the courtyard between the administration building and the classrooms. 

We need more principals who teach us how to be a gentleman.  Like when he (a married man with children who are married) flirts with the new 24 year old kindergarten teacher.  He visits her classroom almost everyday.  He opens the door.  He offers her a ride home.  He smiles at her.  He talks to her every chance he gets.  He's like a high school boy with a crush.  He's smitten.

Yes, the world needs more principals like mine.

He's one of a kind.  

                    I hope.

Seoul Sculptures

Ping Pong is serious business here.

Thumb.

Photo(s) of the Week

A few of my favorites from Jessica's China collection.

30,000 feet over the Yellow Sea

The Egg.  National Center for the Performing Arts.  Beijing

Monument.  Tienanmen Square

Foreign Film Friday

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A Foreign Film review by Chris White

BEFORE SUNRISE
BEFORE SUNSET

Directed by Richard Linklater

Two people talk for an entire movie. Then, almost a decade later, the same two people, playing the same characters…talk again. For another entire movie.

And both films are perfect!

American auteur Richard Linklater directs both of these unusually fresh and fascinating films, which star Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke as lovers who are just as anyone who has fantasized about falling in love with a stranger on a European train would have them be.

Both films are directed with an exquisite playfulness that keeps them smart, but not ponderous.

SUNRISE matches a broken-hearted American (Hawke) bursting with fashionable undergrad cynicism with a delicate French poetess (Delpy) who is easing into womanhood. The two fall in love, promise to meet again in six months, then part ways.

SUNSET brings them back together. Only, this time, the roles are reversed. Hawke has become the delicate one…the author of a romantic novel based on their chance encounter. Delpy plays the cynic…hardened by broken relationships and near misses, she has finally lost the sweet blush of youth.

And yet, here they are again…falling in love again. But…do they finally get together?

Aw, come on. I’m not going to tell you…see the movies!

BEFORE SUNRISE

1995 \\ Color \\ 101 min.

Castle Rock Entertainment

COUNTRY OF PRODUCTION: AUSTRIA

BEFORE SUNSET

2004 \\ Color \\ 80 min.

Warner Independent Pictures

COUNTRY OF PRODUCTION: FRANCE

Survival

My burps were a mix of fish and tofu.  I wasn’t over the jet lag.  My head was swirling from the jumble of Korean I was hearing.  I had just undergone a medical exam in which blood was drawn, causing me to squirm like an embarrassed little school girl.  And to top it all off, I was shoved (kicking and screaming) into a classroom with 15 Korean 3^rd graders.  Alone.

My instructions: Teach.

What level class is this?  Is there a text book?  What do the students already know?  Is there a curriculum I’m to follow?  What time does class end?  Do you have a bottle of Soju I can borrow?

This was my first day of school back in September.  Nearly 8 months ago. 

Yesterday, I was evaluated for the first time.  I taught 21 5^th graders...by myself. 

6 teachers, the principal, and my two co-teachers were in attendance.  The office lady moved around taking pictures.  Outside the window a construction crew was working on an addition to the school.  They decided that during my class would be an opportune time to drill...something.  Anything.  They just wanted to make unnecessary noise.  The machinery was one of those higher-pitched drills.  The one that sounds like a fart when you squeeze your hardest but it just eeks out. 

I pressed on.  Despite the sounds.  Despite the principal arriving late, getting up to leave 2 minutes later, and coming back again.  Twice.  Despite that stupid kid who couldn't say "Hello, how are you?" if his life depended on it.  I pressed on.  Like a champ.

I'm happy to announce that I survived.  I passed my evaluation, thanks in large part to 4 bottles of Soju.

                      ...and that was just for the students.

Church

I’m Bible Belt born and bred.  South Carolina.  God’s Country.  Or at least that’s what the President of my college called it.  He was, of course, an authority on the subject.  His opening address to the new class of students every Fall would always include the heartfelt (and I do believe genuine) statement: “We don’t care if you get an education here.  We care if you know Jesus.”

And then he would give directions to the Financial Aid office.  But that’s another story.

I grew up with a certain routine.  Sunday mornings: put on your best clothes.  Go to Sunday school, worship service to follow.  The service was predictable: Choir enters stage door right.  Matching robes.  The Trio appears...pastor, youth pastor, music minister.  Suit.  Tie.  Preacher haircuts abound. 

“What a pleasure it is to welcome you to ____________ Baptist Church this morning.  You’ll see in the pew in front of you a visitor’s card.  If you would please fill in your information so that we may have a record of your visit with us.  Now turn and greet one another in this time of fellowship.”  Queue the organ.

Every Sunday. 

Needless to say, there are certain things we don't miss from home.  Likewise, there are certain things we DO miss from home.  Like being part of a church.  We attended the only English Bible study in town back in the Fall.  We didn't go back after that one visit.  Just didn't seem to be a good fit for us.

But now we are very excited because we started an English class/English Bible study at our friend Mrs. Kim's church last Sunday.  It's a mix of high school and university students, and young adults.  Our favorite part of the day is after the service when everyone has lunch.  Together.  Not just for random "covered dish socials" but every Sunday.  It's a community.  And they were so welcoming.  Even the older people tried to speak a few words of English to us.

Some days I don't want to go home.

Seoul

A video I came across on YouTube. 

It's a small world...

Something I took for granted when we lived in America was the availability of films.  Good films.  Jessica and I can walk to a little out-of-the-way DVD rental store in town to pick up a movie.  But the problem is that there is so little to choose from.  There are many movies on the shelf...but there is little in the way of good stories.  Good characters.  Good actors.  Good writing. 

The selections available include titles like P.S. I Love You, Twilight, and some movie with Hayden Christensen (who I will absolutely never forgive for butchering the role of Anakin Skywalker).  It's almost enough to drive a man to read books.  And sadly enough, this seems to be a recurring theme in many movies today.  So many are just...so...bad.  

                            But...

Jessica and I had a neat opportunity to play a small role in making a good film.  Our friend and filmmaker Chris White shot a feature length film last month.  Currently it's in the editing phase, and soon will be released.  

We're excited.  Really excited.  For several reasons.  First, it's a great feeling to help an artist be able to do his craft.  Second, we're able to help with the funding from 12,000 miles away.  We're on a different continent, but we're still part of a community.  Third, and most importantly, the project was filmed on location at a place called Pedro's Pleasure Dome on the border of NC and SC.

For a little appetizer, watch the short film Good Life here.

Cheesy family postcard mailed to Yeongju from the set...

...signed by the cast and crew

Foreign Film Friday

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A Foreign Film Review by Chris White

ONCE

Written & Directed by John Carney

Music by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

Some day people will hear the anthemic ballad “Falling Slowly” and have absolutely no idea that it formed the emotional core of the most beloved film of the 2000s.

It’s just that good a song…it really is.

Of course, there will also be future-cinephiles that discover John Carney’s lovely music-film ONCE and find themselves awed by the discovery of so gorgeous a paean to romantic love tucked away in such an unassuming little Irish indie.

Indeed, ONCE is a film that most of us fell very quickly for, actually.

ONCE succeeds largely on the shoulders of its powerhouse songs…co-written and performed by its two stars, Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová. There is a story of course…two lonely souls fall in love while making beautiful music together…but make no mistake, ONCE is more concerned with connecting its relational dots with sweet melody, not pitch-perfect plotting.

In addition to the aforementioned “Falling Slowly,” other standout songs/scenes include the heart-pounding opening number “Say It to Me Now,” the soaring “When Your Mind’s Made Up,” and the most heartbreaking break-up ballad ever, “Lies.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a film that makes me feel more human, more hopeful, more loved…than John Carney’s ONCE.

2007 \\ Color \\ 86 min.

Fox Searchlight Pictures

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: Ireland

A letter

Dear May 4th,

I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold up.  If you and your friend Taiwan (island country formerly part of China, not the little black boy in my 1^st grade class) could please hurry, I’d be forever grateful.

I’m sure this is common place for parents.  But I’m not a parent.  I don’t even have a dog.  Or a goldfish.  I’m sure you’ve heard by now:  It was a long day.  Well, it was more like one class...and there were only 9 students...but still.  It was 9 FIRST GRADE students. 

Today was warm.  Beautiful actually.  Good enough to wear short sleeves for the first time of the year...Mistake #1.  The children have never seen hair on someone’s arm before, much less the hair of two burly grown men that is growing on my arms.    They love to touch it.  And laugh at it.  And dance around doing gorilla impressions.  I’m pretty much a walking Freak Show.  There’s no English lesson happening here.

When I finally managed to calm the children and begin the lesson, I noticed one little boy not participating.  I walk closer to see what had caught his attention, and deduced that the blood all over his face was the cause.  (Now, for the record, I’ve been working with children too long to care in the least when one of these little farts is bleeding, but I figured I should take him to the office.  I mean, better he bleed there than in my room.)  When we arrived another teacher asked him what happened.  You guessed it...he was picking too hard. 

19 more days.

When I returned to my classroom, the students were hovering around the trashcan.  One little boy was crying.  Why?  Who knows?  Or cares?  I looked into the trash can to sort out the problem, but saw nothing.  Trash.  But he’s still crying so I look through the waste further.  He finally sees what he’s lost.  A magnet.  Nothing special.  As generic as it gets.  I’ve got a million of them in my desk.  But now he’s got the one he came in with.  All is well again.

Until...

I notice two little boys across the room.  One standing behind the other.  Index finger extended.  Poking.  Repeatedly.  In the other boy’s...ummmmm...rectum?  This is the funniest activity either one has participated in in a long time.  Apparently.

May 4^th, please hurry.  

                                                                   Sincerely,

                                                                           A nearly insane English teacher

Stop Dreaming. Now.

I used to be a dreamer.  I would dream big dreams.  Dreams that would take me on adventures.  Far away places.  Strange people.  Languages I would never understand.  Mountains.  Villages.  Volcanoes.  The fields of Rohan.

I used to dream of seeing the sun rise over the Sea of Japan.  I used to dream of watching the stars from the Great Wall of China.  I used to dream of walking the streets of Seoul in the dusk of morning as the city awoke.  I dreamed big dreams.

But that was the problem.  I dreamed.  I didn’t go.  Excuses.  Excuses. Excuses. 

       
          “Well, when     (fill in the blank)     happens, then I’ll go.”

          “Traveling is expensive.  I can’t do it now.”

          “I can’t go see the world.  I have to work.”

          “I have an apartment lease, mortgage, car payment, etc. etc. etc.”

The most difficult thing to do is convince yourself of what is possible.  I was my own worst enemy.

But I've figured it out.
          It's quite simple really.
                    Curious?

Thing I miss about America #34, 35, AND 36

Only in the good ol' US of A

Travelin' Tunes

As I mentioned here, Death Cab for Cutie holds a strange power over me.  Not only their music, but the film that is crafted alongside it.  I remember sitting in a coffee shop at home and watching the video below for the first time and knowing for certain that I had to get out of there.  I'm hoping that it has the same affect on you.  Enjoy.

                                                                                                  ...see you soon?

Quiet time

The only drawback to Korea is that everyone seems stubbornly set on speaking Korean. 

Everything is Korean.  Road signs.  Menus.  Books.  Magazines.  Every conversation.  Every shop keeper.  Every restaurant waitress.  Everyone who I have to beg and plead with to purchase a bus ticket, train ticket, or movie ticket.  Even the park ranger yesterday, who said my legs look like those you’d find under a chicken, did so in Korean. 

You name it…it’s Korean. 

It’s like I’m in another country.  Weird.

And I’m OK with it.  It’s fun, really.  My favorite author, Bill Bryson, put it best…

   "But that's the glory of foreign travel, as far as I am 

concerned. I don't want to know what people are talking about. 

I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder 

than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. 

Suddenly you are five years old again. You can't read anything, 

you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work,

 you can't even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. 

Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses."

                -Bill Bryson, 

                from Neither Here nor There; Travels in Europe.

To one person, this would constitute the most frustrating year of his/her life.  To another, the biggest learning experience ever.  To others still, a life such as this would be a constant roller coaster of up and down events, where this person speaks English and you’re able to secure cream and sugar in your coffee, to that restaurant where you do your best to order chicken but somehow an octopus shows up on your plate.

Jessica and I, on the other hand, never take for granted the moments when Korea-speak is swirling all around us.  It’s our quiet time.  The time when we don’t have to talk.  When we don’t even have to pretend like we’re listening.  That’s what we do all day.  We’re employed for the simple fact that we can speak a certain language.

For Jessica it’s in the evening at yoga class.  It’s her time to be quiet for an hour.  The chatter simply sounds like white noise to her.  She can practice her back-bending, Exorcist-like stretches in peace.  For me, it’s at lunch time.  The cafeteria is full of students, teachers, administrative staff, and the principal.  I don’t have to be social.  I don’t have to talk.  I don’t have to pretend that I’m listening to the principal talk about last night’s episode of the Simpson’s.  Or those pills that lasted for 4 hours.  

He just thinks I'm not listening.

Sobaeksan

Sunday morning hike in Sobaeksan (Sobaek Mountain) National Park.

7 Months

In November of 2008, I declined the opportunity to cast a vote.  Some say it was my duty.  My privilege.  My responsibility.  My right.  Whatever it was, it was squandered.  Supposedly. 

“Well what if everyone did that?”

                                               

                                    “Everyone isn’t doing that.”

“Well, there are soldiers risking their lives so you can have the right to choose your leaders.”

“I don’t think my white, middle-class voting privilege has ever been the subject of foreign conflict.”

“Well (in an exasperated, last-ditch-effort tone) if you don’t vote, you don’t have the right to complain about something the President does.”

                                               

                                    “Do you promise?”

The right to complain? 

I haven’t cast a vote since.  I don’t attend town hall meetings.  I don’t watch debates.  I don’t join in on conversation of politics.  I don’t march, rally, or protest.  I don’t campaign.  I click the option to hide the Facebook status updates of people who continually rant in generalized terms about how “G** d*** stupid that particular political party is.”  I don’t even live in the United States.  I’m taking a much needed 15 month vacation.

And yet, somehow, the Greatest Nation in the World continues down its inevitable path. 

Maybe if I argued more, stressed myself to death by thinking my political views actually mattered, actually changed things, actually re-wrote policy, then maybe I’d be a good, cookie-cutter American.

The past 7 months abroad, 12,000 miles from the US, have been the most relaxing of my life.

Apathetic?  In its most extreme form.

In our Queue

I'm happy to announce a new feature to the ...in Korea blog.  On Fridays, my friend and film maker Chris White will be sharing "foreign" film reviews.  A foreign film will be defined as...

1) A film dealing with foreign (non-American) characters, settings, and stories.

2) A film about Americans in a foreign (non-American) setting.

            ...or

3) A film including both.

A special thanks to Chris White for taking time to share his expertise with us.  Make sure to check out his latest film here, set to be released this Spring

________________________________________________________________________

EL DORADO

Written & Directed by Bouli Lanners

There are some stories that start in an unfamiliar place, follow a completely unpredictable path, and land somewhere…else. Bouli Lanners’ strange and wonderful road movie, ELDORADO, is such a tale.

Here’s the story. A used car salesman drives a drug-addicted young man home…along two-lane highways in rural Belgium. But home is not as it should be. So he drives the kid back to the big city.

But road movies are rarely about destinations. They are about what happens between travelers along the way. And a whole lot happens to these offbeat travelers on their journey.

There are the predictable road movie moments: the falling asleep at the wheel near-miss, the broken down in the middle of nowhere scene. But these are handled so imaginatively, so not-cliché: a very naked man steps out of his RV to offer assistance, a local yokel has a fetish for accident scenes.

Both characters are haunted by lost relationships—and it is this point of connection that keeps them together, moving forward. Until there is nowhere left to go. And this relationship is lost, too.

ELDORADO is funny, heartbreaking, strange, and incredibly entertaining from first to last frame…a must-have addition to any home film library.

2008 \\ Color \\ 78 min.

Film Movement

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: Belgium

Writing sample

I'm hoping to write a travel book about our 15 months in South Korea.  Here's a sample from what I've got so far.  This selection is part of chapter 1, which explains why we packed up and moved across the world.  


Don was just one of those guys.  Retired.  Bored.  Talked too much.  I'm sure his wife persuaded him ever so gently to "get the hell out of the house and find something to do."  Bless his heart.  Lots of time and nothing to fill it with can drive a man crazy...or, as in most cases, everyone around him.

Don was hired as the Miscellaneous Fix-It man at the Chick-fil-A restaurant I was helping to manage.  He was forever spouting off witty phrases that were short on the wit and heavy on the "Don, just go home."

"Hey, don't take any wooden nickels."

          Don, just go home.

"I'm blowin' this popsicle stand."

          Don, just go home.

And my personal favorite, "You're alright!  I don't care what they say about you."

          Don, I'm giving you 5 seconds before I take this 12x12 stainless steel pan and shove it up your....

You get the point.

I can’t imagine how his wife did it.  She no doubt belonged to many organizations and supper clubs that kept her out of the house at strategic times.

And now I’ve come to the point in my life where I feel that I should go back and thank all of the people who shaped who I am.  Molded me into a better person.  In short, inspired me to be somebody. Namely, the exact opposite of them.  

To: That small group of Teachers in Gyeongju

If you’ve traveled abroad, especially to a country where the people don’t look American…or white, whichever term you’d like to use (and for the record, the words are interchangeable)…I’m sure you’ve passed this guy on the street.  He’s not anti-social.  Indeed he’s very social.  His vision is not impaired.  He sees you.  But he would die should anyone notice the twinge of excitement and wonder in his eyes.

Now what is interesting is that I came across this recent submission to the classified ads in our local paper The Yeongju Daily Gazette:

Wanted

One highly qualified individual to fill the position of

International Travel Ass for the Mid-Eastern region

of Korea.  The right candidate will have a maximum of 1-2

weeks of international traveling experience.  He/she will

have the world figured out, and consequently wrapped in

a pretty little package.  He/she will be required to never

acknowledge, speak to, or even smile when passing another

American-looking person.  Doing so would communicate

an inferior, “tourist-like” glow that says “I can’t handle this

living abroad thing.  Please speak English to me.”  Finally,

the proper candidate will never, and I repeat NEVER,

frequent such western, tourist establishments such as

McDonalds.  Not even if you are starving.  Such behavior

is unbecoming of the International Travel Ass Association.

All applications must be submitted in person at one of our

offices.  And try not to look lost…we’ll act like we don’t

know you.

What’s really interesting is that they actually print this stuff.

Now, lest I be misunderstood: I get it.  I really do.  Once you’ve been in Korea, or anywhere else, for months and months, seeing another white person (American) is not quite as exciting as it was when you first arrived.  I also understand the “doing your own thing” deal.  Jessica and I rarely, some would say never, hang out with the other foreigners here.  We’re still newlyweds, and, well, you know what newlyweds do.  But we always make an effort to say hello to everyone when we pass, and so do the other good folks of Yeongju.   Apparently all the cool white people are working in other towns.

And, for the record, the Shanghai Spice Chicken Burger at McDonalds is to die for.

Weekend in Photos

Burial mounds in Gyeongju

Cherry Blossom, Gyeongju

Cherry Blossom, Gyeongju

Dinner, Daegu

Yeongju neighborhood

Stud

Mirinda

Thing 1 and Thing 2

Thing 1

Jessica and I have made a decision.  We've gone back and forth in our minds and with each other.  What are we going to do when our contracts expire on Sept. 13?  We looked for different jobs.  Europe.  South America.  Greenville.  We considered staying in Korea longer.  We considered going back home.  We considered wandering the Gobi desert and living in a yurt.  Well I did anyway.  We recently came to a conclusion.  We signed a contract to stay in Yeongju.  But only 3 extra months.  Instead of our original ending date of Sept 13 we will now close out our time in Korea on Dec. 13.   In September I will leave Buseok Elementary School and work at Jessica's private English academy.  It's much closer to home.  I'm happy about that.

Thing 2

Several national holidays occur during the first week and a half of May.  Children's Day and Buddha's Birthday.  Also, my school celebrates its anniversary the same week.  All of these Korean holidays translate to vacation time for us.  Originally we had planned for Japan to be our next big trip.  But instead of flirting with the risk of growing a mutated third arm out of my stomach, we're headed to Taiwan.  It's a tiny island off the coast of China.  Hengchun, a small beach town on the southernmost tip of Taiwan, is where we'll stay for the week.

Thing 3

Bun in the oven.