Ho Lin 
Ode to My Father (2014, Dir. Yoon Je-kyoon):
Korean cinema, like Hollywood, likes to go big — but instead of CGI worlds and explosions, the Koreans traffic in sentiment. We’re used to a good cry with a chick flick or the latest contender for the Best Picture Oscar, but the Koreans are emotional about everything, whether it’s a heartfelt TV melodrama or a nasty neo-noir like The Chaser. There’s an early passage from Ode to My Father in which the waterworks are turned on full blast, and it’s a doozy. During an evacuation from Hungnam, North Korea in 1950, a young boy is tragically separated from his father and sister, but not before he promises his father to care for his surviving family. The scene is operatic in its intensity: the soundtrack swells as American rescue vessels bob on stormy seas, the sky is a torrent of wind and snow, and we cut back and forth between the anguished cries of the young boy and the sight of refugees filling the frame to the horizon. Given the historical import of the moment and the very real separation that many families in both Koreas have experienced to this day, it’s small wonder that the scene (and movie) have reduced Korean audiences to tears, propelling the film to the second biggest box-office take in the country’s history.
It would be tough for most movies to top that moment, and Ode to My Father never does — not for lack of trying, though. Borrowing the framing device of It’s a Wonderful Life, the film aims to tell the story of a good man who looks after everyone but himself. The young boy grows up to be Deok-soo (Hwang Jung-min), who is determined to fulfill his vow to his absent father. Taking over a modest little store in Busan, he sacrifices everything for his family: his education, his dream to be a sailor, and even his leg, which is shot to hell in Vietnam. Deok-soo’s personal odyssey is both intimate and grand, as modern Korean history unfurls before his (and our) eyes like a canvas. In this corner we have a passage in which he seeks fortune as a miner in Germany in the ’60s; over in this corner we see the family and home country’s fortunes improving amid marketization in the ’70s (the original title for the movie is “International Market”); in another vignette we witness the slight thawing of relations of North and South Korea in the ’80s, and the subsequent tearful reunions of families. Finally, Deok-soo must face down his shop’s irrelevance (as well as his own) in a present-day Korea with little memory or interest in the past. In an added note of whimsy, he has numerous Forrest Gump-like run-ins with famous folks along the way, like Nam Jin, one of the country’s early rock legends, or Chung Ju-yung, the founder of Hyundai.
Deok-soo’s story is essentially equated with Korea’s story — a tale of perseverance through trying times, with an emphasis on family and a hope for a better future — but instead of exploring those connections, the film trades depth for breadth. While it’s all handsomely photographed (Busan has never looked so sunny) and director Yoon Je-kyoon is canny enough to move things along with a light touch, what is the organizing principle that binds and deepens the film? Ostensibly it’s Deok-soo’s promise to his father, and indeed, Yoon has publicly stated that his intention in making the film was to celebrate his own father’s life, but the ties that bind, and how those ties become a blessing and a curse, tend to get lost in the rush to cram in as many historical moments as possible. Compare this to Hou Hsiao-hsien’s City of Sadness, which covers only a few years in the life of a Taiwanese family, but is an immersive, devastating chronicle of concerns both personal and societal. The closest Ode to My Father comes to making a compelling statement is when Deok-soo belts out Korea’s national anthem so he can be branded as “patriotic” and secure himself a job — some critics have disparaged the scene as a fawning tribute to the authoritarian rule of the time, but they overlook the irony of Deok-soo pledging allegiance to a country that is at least partially responsible for his family tragedies. Unfortunately that’s about as subtle as it gets; by the time Deok-soo is glorified in the tearjerking finale (cue waterworks), we realize we’ve been observing a repository of virtues and gestures instead of a flesh-and-blood character.
It’s a shame that the characters are thin, as much of the movie’s charm comes from its actors. Hwang has a shambling, endearing chemistry with Yunjin Kim, who plays his girlfriend and eventual wife Young-ja, and they’re both convincing as their elderly present-day selves, even if their makeup lets them down. Yoon provides a few quirky comic touches, such as Young-ja’s predilection for singing sad German ditties, or Deok-soo’s tendency to squint when his picture is being taken. Much like the rest of Ode to My Father, these moments are adrift in a sea of interesting ideas. Perhaps the emotions the movie strains so hard to generate are meant to carry us through, but when it comes to the heavy lifting of character and theme, sometimes tears are not enough.
