The Host

Film critics always like to talk about horror films actually meaning something. The Saw trilogy is a comment on the apathy of the bourgeoisie. Hostel is about Americans' xenophobia and non-Americans' justified hatred of America. But when movies are bad (as are the above), I don't really care what they mean. To some extent, they're nice to have for cultural reference, but until they're on when I can't find anything else to do, I'll pass.

Joon-ho Bong's Gwoemul (The Host) looked pretty scary in its trailers, but I think that was partly due to the trailers' artificial lack of dialogue (similarly mute misrepresentations happen with a lot of foreign films' English-version trailers, often with comic effect). What looked like a monster-horror film turned out to be, well, still a monster movie, but also a family comedy-drama and a smart political satire.

When a monster (which happens to have been accidentally created by the American military) starts running amok in Seoul the Park family - a little girl, her idiot father, her feeble grandfather, her medal-winning archer aunt and her alcoholic uncle - comes together to try and stop it in order to preserve their lives and relationships. Much of the time, it was a lot of fun watching them run around trying to find and fight this thing, but there was something very serious about the realities of such a monster infiltrating the city and the Park family.

As they chase after the monster, the Parks run into obstacle after obstacle set in place by the government. Playing on the southeast Asian fear of SARS and other viruses, the Korean government is convinced that the monster has brought a deadly virus, with symptoms similar to the common cold and which ultimately lead to a swift death. When it seems the Koreans can't handle the situation, the American military swoops in and proposes using Agent Yellow, a biological weapon, to destroy the monster and the deadly virus it has brought with it.

At a time when the American military is being questioned domestically and abroad, a lot has already been said to the effect of, "Americans stick their noses in where they're not needed or wanted, and they need to get the hell out. The rest of the world hates them." The more helpful and as I see it, more accurate sentiment as portrayed in Gwoemul is, "Thanks for coming over to help, we really appreciate it, but why do you have to always think you know what's best? Listen to us! Our way of seeing things is different from yours, but it is valid." There was an unexpectedly poignant moment I think I'll never forget when one of the characters says, "My words are words, too!"

It's trendy, I know, for some Americans to be obsessed with southeast Asian cultures, but I can honestly say I've never had a desire to visit them until these past six months or so of watching their films. There is something I'm missing, some piece of all the films that won't fall into place until I read some history books and take a trip or two. While film might not be the best way to understand a place, Gwoemul, A Taste of Tea (which I watched recently, too) and several others have confirmed for me the indispensability of film and other media as a way to enlarge experience. I may never get to travel to southeast Asia, but film has brought me past the veneer of the place.