김진성: 열한번째 엄마
Eleventh Mother, Only Hope
To start with a cliché: I believe there are two types of moviegoers—those who love a good melodrama, and those who won’t admit they love it. And before the lights come up, the latter is usually busy wiping away that small, rebellious moisture from the corner of their eye.
The Korean film industry pours out melodramas; in that corner of the world, the genre is thriving and constantly finding new life. There are better and worse versions, of course—to quote an old joke: there’s the kind that is work for the actor and a drama for the viewer—but for the most part, they fill this sensitive genre (which can easily slide into kitsch in the wrong hands) with high-quality, everyday life.
And here is another truth: a good melodrama is a truly actor-centric genre. It allows space for deep character building, the unfolding of physical and spiritual changes, and a richly detailed presentation of human relationships. Understandably, such a role is every actor's dream.
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| Director Kim Jin-sung |
Kim Jin-sung’s film, My Eleventh Mother, sets up the necessary basic formula: its central duo is burdened with cumulative disadvantages. An eleven-year-old boy lives with his alcoholic and aggressive father, who brings a new woman home every year as a prospective surrogate mother—only for them to leave as quickly as they arrived. The boy expects the same from the latest candidate, who is world-weary, cold, and indifferent. It turns out the father "recruited" the woman from a bar, and she only came along because she is suffering from a serious illness and had nowhere else to go. The child, much like the entire situation, is just a burden to her. That is, until she witnesses the father’s aggression toward the boy, which, following one drunken night, leads to a genuine connection between her and the child.
From this point on, the story is quite predictable and contains no major surprises. But that is not why the film is lovable; it is for the excellent casting, which results in a series of magnificent performances. The fragile, enervated girl whose health is steadily declining is brought to life by Kim Hye-soo (whom we would see a year later in the role of the magical bar singer in Modern Boy). Her performance is stellar. The film’s protagonist, Jae-soo, is played by thirteen-year-old Kim Young-chan with great nuance; he portrays Jae-soo’s hidden childhood desires and losses just as authentically as his forced, "old-beyond-his-years" role as the breadwinner. In the role of the father, Ryu Seung-ryong’s one-dimensional figure has little chance to expand, but there is another male character who is a true surprise. The somewhat timid neighbor living with his mother, who develops an attraction to the girl, provides an opportunity for an extraordinary performance by Hwang Jung-min (those who saw him as President Baek in A Bittersweet Life will truly enjoy the massive contrast between the two characters).
Unfortunately, toward the end, the story shifts from its initially exciting, realistic tone toward forced tear-jerking, which I found to be a bit much. Whatever happened, it seems life returns to its normal tracks; in fact, the pendulum swings all the way to the sunny side. When everyone is smiling at each other and cherry blossoms are raining down, the visual experience, for me, was paired with a nauseatingly syrupy scent. Although we undeniably like to believe that all's well that ends well, in this case, that sentiment did not apply to the ending for me.
