A film based on the early life of an unloved late president is a startling hit
By S.C.S. | SEOUL
FOR the directorial debut of a former Korean “webtoon” artist, the accomplishment is remarkable. Based on a script he had mulled over since the 1990s, Yang Woo-seok’s “The Attorney” was originally intended as an indie movie for a small audience. But it has beaten Korean box-office records since its release on December 18th—at the end of a year in which Korean cinemas set a new record of over 200m ticket sales (in a country of 50m people). It hit the 1m-admissions mark after just three days, beating the other most popular movies of 2012 and 2013 (“Masquerade” and “Miracle in Cell no. 7”, respectively, which each took four days to do so). Its viewership is also growing at a faster clip than “Avatar”, an American blockbluster from 2009, which attracted the biggest Korean audience of all time (13.3m). On January 19th, just one month after its release, it entered the 10m-admissions club—joining just eight other movies in the history of Korean film.
Films based on real-life events have a special appeal for Koreans. With “The Attorney” counted among Korea’s 10m club, four of its nine members are now historical films. “The Attorney” is based loosely on an infamous court case which took place in Busan in 1981. Twenty-two university students were arrested, tortured and tried on the trumped-up charge of forming a book club to study seditious literature. The “Burim case” has long been seen as a massive frame-up of South Korea’s communist movement, aimed at bolstering support for Chun Doo-hwan, a strongman who had seized power in a coup the previous year. In “The Attorney”, an ambitious solicitor quits a high-earning job advising taxpayers to take on the political case in defence of the innocent students. The part is played by Song Kang-ho, who starred in three movies in 2013; the first two, “The Face Reader” and “Snowpiercer”, sold over 9m tickets each in Korea, earning him the nickname “the 20m man”.
But in an interview published by the Korean Film Council, Mr Song admitted to having refused the role at first, concerned that he would not be up to expressing “the passionate life of the brave individuals in the ’80s”. That life was inspired by the early career of Roh Moo-hyun, whose engagement in the Burim incident set him on a course to become Korean president, in 2003. Though neither the film itself nor its advertising mention his name, thousands of Koreans flocked to see the man who would become Korea’s unlikely president—including those who disliked his style of government. At times goofy, quick to take offence and often talking off the script, his approval rating plummeted to 11% during his last year in office. His unpopularity was such that he had no choice but to leave his own party. A year after he left office, Roh was suspected of bribery. Prosecutors summoned his brother (who was arrested), his wife and son, and eventually Roh himself. In May 2009 he jumped off a cliff to his death. The tragedy left many feeling the investigation had been politically motivated. The government’s top prosecutor resigned shortly after.
“The Attorney” paints a sympathetic portrait of the young idealistic Roh, willing to sacrifice his career to fight for justice. Remembering the Busan case, Roh himself said that when he saw the students’ “horrified eyes and their missing toenails”, his “comfortable life as a lawyer came to an end”. According to Maxmovie, a Korean film portal, about 45% of those who bought a ticket on its website were in their 40s. The film appears to have awakened a collective memory, according to Nam Taehyun, a professor of political science at Salisbury University in America—and serve as a reminder of “a time when people could hear and challenge the president”. Some suggest the film’s success reflects unease about the present government, run by Park Geun-hye, a conservative president. Her first year in office has been tarnished by allegations of electioneering by Korea’s intelligence agency, which posted thousands of pro-Park comments on social media sites during her presidential campaign in 2012. Her party’s petition, in November 2013, to disband a left-wing group accused of pro-North activities, the United Progressive Party (UPP)—the first motion of its kind in Korean history—disquieted many Koreans. At a National Assembly meeting last month, Jang Byung-wan, a policy director with the opposition, went as far as to say that the success of “The Attorney” was because “its audience lives in a society where circumstances are not much different from then [ie 1981]; they can easily empathise with the story.”
The film has been popular with younger audiences too; for many 20-somethings, “The Attorney” resonated uncannily with a pro-democracy protest movement that began shortly before its release. The “How are you nowadays?” movement encourages Koreans to voice their concerns on hand-written posters. It began on university campuses across the country in protest at the dismissal of thousands of railroad workers striking against privatisation. It draws even more of its force from its members’ opposition to the limits that government and society set on free speech. One man died after setting his body on fire, calling for Ms Park’s resignation.
Cinema tickets have been left at Roh’s grave; black-and-white images of his participation in the 1987 street protests have been posted on social-networking sites and blogs. Rumours circulated that angry right-wingers had bought tickets in bulk—and not turned up to the screening—to impede viewings (the distribution company says there is no evidence of this). Still the film has proven to bridge political, as well as generational, divides. A member of the ruling conservative party, who suffered at the hands of the Chun administration in the 1980s, tweeted last month: “The film brought back memories of torture, and made my body ache again. Where is Korean democracy heading? I feel like crying.”
The film’s producer, Choi Jae-won, insists that this is not a movie about Roh the president, but Roh the man (as he explained in an interview, in Korean). In the original script, the protagonist’s name was Roh Woo-hyun—but Mr Choi's condition for making the movie was “to exclude the politician”. He had no intention of making the film either left- or right-wing. “If the politics had been in front of the humanity, this movie would not have been successful,” he says. Many Koreans are left thinking that this may have been the case for Roh the president, too.
