...a woman is.
At least, that's the image underlying the title of this movie. It's set on this remote mountain lake with only a few floating fishing-huts plus a shack for Hee-Jin, the caretaker of this primitive resort. This young lady (the only permanent resident) is mute; she can make noises, so her muteness is probably caused by some psychological trauma (cf. The Painted Bird), something suggested by her personality. Although she appears to be a menial, she has the leaky boat which is the only access to and from the cabins, also she turns out to have unsuspected powers of underwater diving. Combined with her great beauty and fierce intensity, this gives her the aspect of a nature-spirit.
The visiting fishermen who rent these little holiday huts are coarse brutes, who treat her like a slave; early on, they buy her services in bed, then throw the money into the water, so she has to dive for it and then dry it out. Needless to say, strange and unpleasant things soon happen to these visitors due to some mysterious underwater force.
Enter another visitor, a decent and sensitive guy who amuses himself making wire sculptures when not fishing. Through seeing his nightmares we know he is a fugitive on the run after killing his unfaithful girlfriend and her companion in a fit of jealousy. Hee-Jin is almost beside herself with loneliness and frustration, however remote she may first appear, and she soon takes a fancy to the newcomer. He, tormented by memories, is about to shoot himself when a spike appears out of the lake and stabs him in the thigh, causing him to drop the gun. Later on he attempts to forestall police capture by committing suicide with fishhooks in the most gruesome way possible; she hides him, then carefully removes the hooks from his throat, then gives him artificial respiration, then makes love to him. He later repays her for her kindness by hitting her - he's terrified by the thought of a new relationship - but they go on to develop a deep attachment.
There is so little dialogue that this is almost like a silent movie, and that is what gives it its immense power. Suh Jung (Hee-Jin) displays the most astonishing acting ability in an extremely difficult role. It's necessary to her character that she not speak or smile, so she has to use great skill to communicate her feelings in other ways. As remote as she is, one's heart immediately goes out to her, and her austere demeanour makes a pleasant contrast to the airheaded call-girls who sometimes get summoned to the lake by fishermen. The silence is punctuated by the sound of waves and oars, and occasionally by creepy electronic music making the atmosphere reminiscent of "Aguirre, the Wrath of God". Suh Jung is obviously someone to watch for in future.
The Isle reminds me of The Blue Light (1932), in which the power of nature is symbolized by an outcast woman unable to communicate, but who masters the rocky precipices that send experienced mountaineers to their doom. Leni Riefenstahl is as enigmatic as Suh Jung, so I recommend it to people who understand The Isle.
One flaw is the epilogue - two metaphorical scenes not part of the narrative, which confuse the viewer. Although the scenes aren't bad, they should have been incorporated within the narrative, e.g. by being shown on a TV being watched by fishermen.
I dare say that this will be remembered as one of the great movies of the 21st century, and this from Korea - a country not previously known for cinematography. Director Ki-duk Kim is obviously a talent to be reckoned with.
At least, that's the image underlying the title of this movie. It's set on this remote mountain lake with only a few floating fishing-huts plus a shack for Hee-Jin, the caretaker of this primitive resort. This young lady (the only permanent resident) is mute; she can make noises, so her muteness is probably caused by some psychological trauma (cf. The Painted Bird), something suggested by her personality. Although she appears to be a menial, she has the leaky boat which is the only access to and from the cabins, also she turns out to have unsuspected powers of underwater diving. Combined with her great beauty and fierce intensity, this gives her the aspect of a nature-spirit.
The visiting fishermen who rent these little holiday huts are coarse brutes, who treat her like a slave; early on, they buy her services in bed, then throw the money into the water, so she has to dive for it and then dry it out. Needless to say, strange and unpleasant things soon happen to these visitors due to some mysterious underwater force.
Enter another visitor, a decent and sensitive guy who amuses himself making wire sculptures when not fishing. Through seeing his nightmares we know he is a fugitive on the run after killing his unfaithful girlfriend and her companion in a fit of jealousy. Hee-Jin is almost beside herself with loneliness and frustration, however remote she may first appear, and she soon takes a fancy to the newcomer. He, tormented by memories, is about to shoot himself when a spike appears out of the lake and stabs him in the thigh, causing him to drop the gun. Later on he attempts to forestall police capture by committing suicide with fishhooks in the most gruesome way possible; she hides him, then carefully removes the hooks from his throat, then gives him artificial respiration, then makes love to him. He later repays her for her kindness by hitting her - he's terrified by the thought of a new relationship - but they go on to develop a deep attachment.
There is so little dialogue that this is almost like a silent movie, and that is what gives it its immense power. Suh Jung (Hee-Jin) displays the most astonishing acting ability in an extremely difficult role. It's necessary to her character that she not speak or smile, so she has to use great skill to communicate her feelings in other ways. As remote as she is, one's heart immediately goes out to her, and her austere demeanour makes a pleasant contrast to the airheaded call-girls who sometimes get summoned to the lake by fishermen. The silence is punctuated by the sound of waves and oars, and occasionally by creepy electronic music making the atmosphere reminiscent of "Aguirre, the Wrath of God". Suh Jung is obviously someone to watch for in future.
The Isle reminds me of The Blue Light (1932), in which the power of nature is symbolized by an outcast woman unable to communicate, but who masters the rocky precipices that send experienced mountaineers to their doom. Leni Riefenstahl is as enigmatic as Suh Jung, so I recommend it to people who understand The Isle.
One flaw is the epilogue - two metaphorical scenes not part of the narrative, which confuse the viewer. Although the scenes aren't bad, they should have been incorporated within the narrative, e.g. by being shown on a TV being watched by fishermen.
I dare say that this will be remembered as one of the great movies of the 21st century, and this from Korea - a country not previously known for cinematography. Director Ki-duk Kim is obviously a talent to be reckoned with.