Review: Memories of Murder (dir. Bong Joon-ho, 2003)

Bong Joon-ho's Memories of Murder (2003) deals with a gruesome subject matter: the rapes and murders of 10 young women in a small Korean town in the late 1980's, a crime rendered more unfathomable for the fact that the killer never was caught. The true-life spree that paralyzed an isolated countryside village inspired a stage play in the mid-90's, which Bong eventually adapted into his film version.

In his film Bong concentrates on the detectives at the heart of the case, who struggle with the elusive nature of the killer and his bizarre, disturbing tactics. Thrown for a loop by seemingly suspicious characters in the village, including a mentally challenged village idiot-type and a family man with a fetish for porn, the main detective (played by Song Kang-ho) transfers his growing frustrations onto these innocent folk, often coercing them into confessions for crimes they didn't commit, or sending his sidekick to drop-kick them into submission. He's a cop who acts on gut and instinct first, and worries about tying the loose ends together later, if at all.

It's not until a detective from Seoul (whose smooth style and detached persona contrasts with the provincial detectives he's teamed up with) is dispatched to the case that some real clues start emerging: the killer's soft hands, his penchant for striking in the rain, his preying on girls who wear red. The Seoul cop (played by Kim Sang-kyung) mostly distances himself from the crass interrogation and buffoonery exhibited by his parters: he does his own thing, conducts his own research such as visting a local school where some schoolgirls hold potential clues, and thinks, thinks, thinks. His quiet determination is contained, but his frustrations are palpable in the drawn puffs of his cigarrette.

As the murders continue and the body count rises, the main village detective (Song's character) knows he's no longer in (his own) Kansas: dealing with some village thug or pea-brained criminal whom he can manipulate and brutalize into confession. There's a sadistic killer on the loose who can only be caught with clinical precision and forensic science, if even those prove reliable. After one particularly gruesome discovery of yet another body, he turns to Seoul man and quietly asks, "Do you see this kind of thing in Seoul?" or something to that extent, as if pleading with him to proffer that such psychotics can exist. "Never", his partner stammers.

Bong draws on the times of the era, including the occasional air raid sirens that wail through the village, or the clashes between the military and its villagers, to provide some context. The rice paddies and deep fields provide some gorgeous scenery, and the well-timed, drums-heavy soundtrack mimics the rush of adrenaline the cops feel as they intimate the killer has struck once again.

It's the end that may not bring real satisfaction, or closure. We all know how events played out in real life, so I don't think I'm giving away anything by revealing that the detectives are unsuccessful in their attempts to nab the killer. Bong illustrates the breaking point of each detective like only a skilled professional can. At the end of their rope, physically and mentally spent from their investigation, they throw their weight behind a single piece of DNA evidence which must be sent to America to be analyzed (since the technology didn't exist in Korea then). With their prime suspect, a myterious, baby-faced man whose radio call-in requests oddly coincide with the night of each murder, identified, questioned, and all but accused, it's this single sheet of paper from the United States that can deliver not only the final answer to the investigation, but their sanity as well.

Bong's portrayal of two men who must plumb the depths of their souls and turn the world as they know it inside out to solve one of Korea's most notorious serial crime sprees is riveting. By the end you feel the film has become more than just about the hunt for a killer. It's these grown men--defeated, overwhelmed and unable to even recogize themselves any longer--who have become the victims.