Kim Jin-soo – Windows on Worlds

A collection of underdog teens learn a few valuable lessons in perseverance and determination while taking their moribund high school basketball team all the way to the national championships in Jang Hang-jun’s sporting drama, Rebound (리바운드). Inspired by the real life tale of Busan Jungang High School’s meteoric rise from obscurity to top rated team, the film quietly touches on inter-city rivalry and social inequality while otherwise spinning an inspirational tale of the power of solidarity and a never say die spirit.

They are all in their way rebounding from something, and not least the team itself which is threatened with closure after being judged a bad investment by the penny pinching headmaster given its “embarrassing” series of total losses across a series of years. The team is given a brief reprieve but only as a token of its former reputation, the plan being to have one just for show but not actually enter any competitions while the school let it gradually fall into obscurity. Accordingly, they begins looking for “cheap” coaches who might be prepared to manage a phantom team and eventually land on 25-year-old social worker Kang Yang-hyun (Ahn Jae-hong) who is a former minor leaguer and alumnus of the school looking to reclaim his own failed hoop dreams vicariously through a new generation of new players.

There are however only four left on the team, two of whom immediately quit leaving Kang scrambling around the city looking for tall boys who might be good with a ball and can be convinced to switch schools. The problem they have is that talented players are quickly snapped up by more prestigious institutions in Seoul which can after all offer more opportunities to ambitious youngsters aware that they probably won’t be playing basketball for the rest of their lives. No one really envisages a future for themselves in Busan which remains a kind of underdog in itself as it struggles against the the allure of Seoul as place of greater sophistication and possibility. Keen basketballer Ki-bum (Ahn Jae-hong) turns down Kang’s offer for just this reason insisting that his career is dead if he stays in Busban even while his parents seems to be turning down good offers on his behalf. He only agrees to join the team on learning that ace player Jun-yung (Lee Dae-hee) will be playing for them.

Jun-yung is valued mainly for his height which sort of runs against the messages of the game in that it’s not something the players can control and no matter how hard they train they will always be at a disadvantage to those who are simply bigger. Kang’s first mistake is that he builds everything around the pillar of Jun-yung, barely letting the other players play while instructing them to pass every ball to him so he can shoot. In any case, Jun-yung too is eventually poached by a better team apparently forced to betray his teammates by his ambitious parents who are after all merely making what they see as a smart decision on his behalf. A disastrous fight between two players with unfinished business from middle school also results in a lengthy suspension ending the team’s hopes of competition success for the current season.

But as Kang later says, it’s only really a “fake failure” in that it gave him a rebound he could use to realise his mistakes and start over prioritising their shared love of the game over his own insecurity now more willing to take a risk while concentrating on making the team as good as it can be rather than the external validation of championship wins. As he later tells them in an inspirational locker room speech, not all of your shots go in but that’s OK because they come back to you on the rebound and what matters is what you do with them then. Whatever happens, life goes on and fear of failure is not a reason to give up on something you love.

Jang does his best to avoid underdog sports movie cliches while subtly hinting at the pressures of social inequality as moody player Gang-ho (Jung Gun-joo) struggles with an old injury he couldn’t afford to have treated properly while trying to make extra cash betting on basketball games with other wayward neighbourhood kids. Capturing a real sense of energy in the various basketball games along with a wholesome sense of possibility as the team begin to bond and “improve” each other, Jang is careful not to be blinded by a false narrative of inspirational success but rather doubles down on the rebound mentality of seizing opportunities as they come and continuing to chase your dreams in your own way no matter how hopeless they may seem.

Rebound screened as part of this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

International trailer (English subtitles)

A trans woman begins to step into herself after reclaiming her traditional culture to make peace with the past in Byun Sung-bin’s poignant indie drama, Peafowl (공작새, Gongjaksae). At once situating itself in the heartland of a society struggling to adapt to the pace of change, the film suggests that only by reintegrating her Koreanness can the heroine become fully herself even as the spirit of the father who rejected her softly tells her to dance her dance.

Myung (Choi Hae-jun), whose name as she later says means “not too light not too dark”, is a trans woman living in Seoul hoping to earn a large amount of money to pay for her surgery through winning a waacking dance competition. Shortly before she performs, she receives an unsettling telephone call and narrowly loses the dance off against a Taiwanese competitor while a judge explains that she lacks a colour of her own. It’s then that a childhood friend, Woo-gi (Kim Woo-kyum), contacts her to let her know that her estranged father Duk-gil (Ki Joo-bong) has passed away and asks her to come to the funeral. Myung first says she won’t go, but later does only to be berated by her overbearing, conservative uncle who ironically causes a scene by loudly exclaiming that a man shouldn’t be going around with long hair or wearing makeup. He even introduces her as Duk-gil’s son to an older relative who is otherwise much more sympathetic and even asks her with surprise why she’s wearing a male mourning outfit rather than the more appropriate one for women.

It’s the uncle, a symbol of oppressive middle-aged patriarchal power, that is the real problem. Most other people are either broadly supportive or too polite to say anything of Myung’s changed appearance while her teenage nephew Bo-suk (Go Jae-hyun) simply accepts her and quickly refers to Myung as “sis” despite his mother’s obvious discomfort. It is however the uncle who is in charge, continuing to misgender and insult Myung especially once Woo-gi reveals that it was Duk-gil’s dying wish for Myung to lead the funerary rites at his 49th day memorial service. Myung doesn’t really want to participate but is tempted after Woo-gi suggests there’s a sizeable inheritance to be had if she agrees.

It’s clear that Myung had good reason to resent her father, holding up her hand and revealing a large burn scar she’s since had tattooed with with a beautiful peacock feather. The feather motif is repeated throughout as a kind of symbol of Myung’s hidden beauty which she will eventually learn to reveal through the fusion of the traditional art of shamanistic ritual and her contemporary waacker dance moves, yet it’s also linked to the image of her father as a man she never understood and may never have really known whose relationship with her was shaped by the legacy of homophobic prejudice in ways she could never have imagined. The truth that she discovers reminds her that there have always been people like her even within this very “traditional” society, while the twin revelation that her cousin is gay and struggling in many of the same ways she has proves there always will be. As Woo-gi reminds her, her grandfather’s tree looks like it’s dead but is kept alive by its connections with others much like people are, pointing out that rituals accept everyone without prejudice or exception.

Only after making peace with her conflicted aunt and showing her overbearing uncle the error of his ways can Myung begin to reclaim herself in reintegrating her traditional culture to gain the colour she was lacking and become fully herself as she performs the ritual along with a waacker dance that quite literally sets fire to the oppressive quality of tradition as mediated by men like her uncle who weaponise it to preserve their own privilege. Shot in classic 4:3, Byun neatly contrasts the vibrancy of Seoul nightlife with the oppressive dullness of life in the village, but also highlights the various similarities in the colour and noise of a shamanistic ceremony which as Myung discovers moves to a beat not dissimilar to waacker as she watches her friends dance in a club with the movements of traditional shamanism. In a way, Myung does indeed burn it all down but does so positively, finally coming to an understanding of her father and her history while reclaiming her traditional culture along with the right to do with it whatever she wishes.

Peafowl screened as part of BFI Flare 2023. It will also be screening at Genesis Cinema, London on April 20 as part of this year’s Queer East.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Tag: Kim Jin-soo

Rebound (리바운드, Jang Hang-jun, 2023)

Peafowl (공작새, Byun Sung-bin, 2022)