Cast: Kang-ho Song, Ok-vin Kim

Director: Park Chan-Wook

Screenplay: Park Chan-Wook

Running time: 2 hrs 13 mins

Genre: Foreign Film



CRITIQUE:


One has to be either dull-witted or living off as a recluse in underground not to notice that the world is currently being run over by vampires. From American emo franchise Twilight, worshipped by a horde of starry-eyed girlie teenagers (and their mums, too) to American TV series, modern trend of vampirism involves immaculate cheekbones, dreamy gazes and lots of men eagerly de-shirting for millions of disillusioned girl with jaws dropping to the floor and swooning in the process. For most of us with some shred of sensibilities left, this recent cultural take-over is smothering us and makes us want to vomit. Thank goodness, there was a breath of fresh air all the way from Sweden earlier this year, as Thomas Alfredson’s extraordinary Let The Right One In revitalised the bloodless genre. Now, arriving from South Korea is Park Chan-Wook’s Thirst, an oddly surreal yet engagingly inventive that would make Twilight utterly toothless. This is – in pure simple terms – a vampire film for cinema-conscious adults.


We’ve seen the angst and tenderness in other vampire films already, so Thirst takes out the genre’s balls, slams it to your face and wipes its glorious gore unapologetically. After its protagonist, a good-hearted Catholic priest, survives a skin epidemic, he discovers he is infected with a leper-like disease that is only curable with blood refreshments. Cue bloodlusting and clandestine slurping of haemoglobin under comatose patients. But for all its bloodbath and violence galore, there’s a beautifully orchestrated central tale of erotic awakening between the conflicted hero Sang-Hyun and oppressed housewife Tae-ju. Vampirism here is employed as an excuse to symbolise intense eroticism and penetrative sex, unlike the many pretentious, shallow dictums of the genre’s competitors. The romance between the lovers is unabashedly feral, needy, veering from unrestrained wantonness to tempestuous, fatal quarrels. Imagine a domestic fight, but only with fewer words and more teeth.


There are also many strands of storyline being woven here; Sang-Hyun’s spiritual dilemma, Tae-Ju’s sexual perversity, and a spousal betrayal as both murder Tae-Ju’s husband only to haunt them in return. It starts strong, but becomes a little loose in the middle, and then redeemed by a brilliant final act, where Sang-Hyun’s pacifism clashes with Tae-Ju’s predatory philosophy. That final scene in the coast where the two confront their own doomed existence is both beautifully conceived and realised.


VERDICT:

From the overpopulated genre of vampire flicks, we have to thank for Park Chan-Wook’s pitch-black humour, bizzaro approach and endless visual inventiveness to make Thirst a standout from the throng. This is such an engrossing watch. Its gore, blood, sarcasm and ribald sex will make the sanitised, squeaky clean vampire-camper Twilight blush.




RATING: B+