Some films seem destined for obscurity. With an ordinary looking poster, no major stars, and a concept that sounds a bit corny, My Dear Desperado more or less fit that description at the time of its release in late May (i.e. blockbuster season). With posters for Robin Hood, How to Train Your Dragon and Prince of Persia covering buses in Seoul, this modestly produced story struggled to attract attention. But like an old gangster who keeps picking himself up off the pavement, the film gradually built up positive word-of-mouth, and managed to sell close to 700,000 tickets. That may not be much by the standards of wide releases, but for this low-budget comedy it was a strong vote of confidence, and enough to ensure the filmmakers a healthy profit.
The story concerns Se-jin, a young woman from a regional town who moves to Seoul shortly after graduation to take a job at a big company. Motivated and hard-working, she excels briefly, but then her dream shatters when the company is brought down by charges of fraud. Distraught, she gives up her nice apartment and moves into a cheap basement studio until she can find new work. But finding work is not easy. Upon moving in, she is confronted by another problem. Her next door neighbor is a middle-aged gangster. Not as effective as he used to be, but with his bad attitude still intact, Dong-cheol spends most of each day shuffling around with nothing important to do. Before long, he starts getting in Se-jin’s way and adopting a rudely familiar tone with her.
Debut director Kim Kwang-sik can boast of connections to two major figures in the Korean film industry. He served as assistant director under Lee Chang-dong for the award-winning Oasis (2002), and My Dear Desperado was produced by none other than Haeundae director Youn Je-gyun. It’s hard to think of two Korean films that have less in common than Oasis and disaster movie Haeundae (lead actor Sul Kyung-gu notwithstanding), but in a strange way Kim combines the strengths of both directors in his debut film. The overall structure of the film is solidly commercial, and like Youn he utilizes comedy to build up sympathy for his characters, before moving towards pathos in the final act. And yet there is a casual realism to this film, perhaps learned from Lee, that makes it feel exceptionally genuine. It fits within the conventions of a romantic comedy, no doubt, but the setting and style are evocative of ordinary, real people.
For a character-based work like this, the acting is particularly important, and this is one of the film’s great strengths. Veteran Park Joong-hoon (Nowhere to Hide) would seem at first glance to be a slightly awkward fit with this kind of character, but in the end his acting skills and charisma prevail. His character is meant to be more annoying than threatening, and he captures both the empty bravado and veiled anxiety that characterize Dong-cheol quite well. Meanwhile up and coming actress Jeong Yu-mi (Family Ties) brings an inner energy and strength to the portrayal of Se-jin that lets us feel her competence and potential in the midst of her struggles. Her quest to find work, and her increasing outrage at the arrogant and small-minded recruiters who never give her a chance, become surprisingly involving. In this sense, despite its comic moments, few other films in recent years capture so well the frustration and desperation of new graduates stepping out into an economy with hardly any jobs.
Ultimately, My Dear Desperado satisfies both as escapist entertainment and as a modest kind of social commentary. It no doubt deserves to be called one of the discoveries of Korean cinema in 2010, and I’m already looking forward to Kim’s next film.
Darcy Paquet