A film finding itself in the crosshairs of the public or the political establishment is not a new phenomenon; it has transcended geographical borders and historical eras. The latest one facing intense outrage and furore, triggered on and amplified by social media, is Hur Jin-ho’s new Korean thriller, The Assassin(s).
About the assassination attempt in 1974 on the then President Park Chung-hee and its follow up, the film is being accused of distorting history, particularly with reference to the first lady Yuk Young-soo, who was fatally shot in the incident, along with a young choir girl. While the official version stated gunman Mun Se-gwang, a Maoist Korean in Japan, to have acted at the behest of North Korea, the film’s ostensible suspicion of the South Korean state and intelligence service (Korean Central Intelligence Agency), have met with anger and disapproval from the conservatives.
The film that was released in South Korea on September 23, after its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival on September 16, has been facing fierce backlash and calls for a ban from the right wing, with protests targeting the cast and crew now spilling offline. So much so that its public screening at the Busan International Film Festival and the promotional events were canceled in the interest of the safety of the film team, bringing the issue of freedom of expression, democracy, artistic responsibility and censorship into focus. It is set to be the opening film at the Singapore International Film Festival on October 21.
Beyond the arguments and counterarguments of its supporters and detractors, The Assassin(s) is undeniably a gripping, neatly scripted, fabulously mounted, well-acted investigation of a real-life police procedural. It offers a deep dive into the ways of some independent journalists and tenacious cops who believed in speaking truth to power and, in their search for truth, plunged headlong into the baffling case questioning the loopholes and loose ends.
It is for an on-duty police superintendent Park Cheol-gu (Yoo Hai-jin) who is also a witness to the assassination attempt, a veteran editor Kim Jae-hwan (Park Hae-il) and his young colleague, reporter Han Young-il, (Lee Min-ho) to try and arrive at the heart of darkness by piecing together the many pieces of the puzzle. Was the assassin alone or was he aided by another man? How did his gun have five bullets while the actual shots fired were six? Why had security rules been changed for the day? Their probe is like peeling one layer after another with the aim of arriving at the kernel. Through his characters Hur Jin-ho suggests, insinuates and inquires but leaves things open-ended for the audience to arrive at its own conclusion. Was it a cover up or was it not? Either way there's no denying the state coercion and its control of information.
The star of the show—and the centre of the controversy—is Kwan Ki-joon and Lee Ji-min’s watertight, fictionalized screenplay that makes for a racy, pacy film that doesn’t flag for even a minute despite its over two hours run-time. The huge ensemble notwithstanding, each of the characters gets particularized and the band of actors is finely tuned in with each other. Another winner is production designer Kim Byeong-han’s meticulous recreation of the 70s Korea.
Most interesting, however, are not just the twists and turns in the plot but the progression of the film itself. What begins as a suspenseful story involving a specific case gradually turns into a larger celebration of ordinary heroes, civic activism, individual integrity and the power of democracy and free press in shaping a nation in the face of authoritarianism, suppression and intimidation.
A film of its times but one that is for all times.
