There are some films from faraway lands that we, as knuckle-dragging Americans, probably just don't get.  Much in the same way a Norwegian may not fully appreciate the significance of a historical tale U.S. citizens hold dear (such as The Patriot - which I'm not sure is a good example of something to appreciate), Bob and Betty Lou Normal from Des Moines will most likely turn their Middle American noses up at a sweeping epic that brings tears to people who live in the country from which the film originates.

Take the Polish film, Pan Tadeusz.  Beautiful?  Sure.  Well-acted?  You bet. Capable of evoking emotion?  Not in the slightest.  But if I lived in Poland, I'd probably be doing back-flips up and down the theatre aisles after seeing it for the fifth time.

Tadeusz could be reduced to a simple slogan that would make the story a bit more accessible to the Normals - it's "the Polish version of the Hatfields and the McCoys."  Likewise, the new South Korean film, Chunhyang, could be seen as nothing more than "the Korean Romeo and Juliet" by Americans from sea to shining sea.  But Chunhyang is more than that, I guess.  It's based on a revered, 300-year-old Korean poem by Cho Sang-hyun, and it was made by that country's most productive and significant filmmaker Im Kwon-taek (not unlike Tadeusz's Andrzej Wajda).  Imagine Steven Spielberg filming a big-screen version of the Civil War, and you get the idea.  Or Michael Bay directing a film about Pearl Harbor (okay - another bad example).

Chunhyang is set on the eve of the 18th century in Korea's Chosun Dynasty. Mongryong (Cho Seung-woo) is the studious 16-year-old son of a Governor who, as the film opens, is about to go away for several years to take exams to become a state official.  Before he buckles down, Mongryong does a bit of sightseeing with his wacky servant, Pangja.  One day, he lays eyes on a beautiful girl named Chunhyang (Lee Hyo-jeong) and becomes smitten with her, despite the differences in their social status (she's the daughter of a whore).

Their courtship is cute and quick, and, before you know it, they're rolling around like a couple of adorable little bunnies.  Mongryong promises to marry Chunhyang (she's also 16) as soon as he returns from his exams.  She agrees to wait, but, in the meantime, a deranged new Governor (Lee Jung-hun) has taken control of the province.  He hears Chunhyang is a hot little piece and tries to make the youngster his mistress.  She refuses and is badly beaten and given a death sentence.

While the story may seem rather conventional, director Im Kwon-taek ups the ante by having the film narrated by Pansori, which, from what I can gather, is a form of solo opera accompanied by one drum.  Each section of the story is described by this Korean take on a Greek chorus, which is bellowed and screamed by what I can only describe as a Tom Waits impersonator.  It's simultaneously horrifying (in a bad way) and mesmerizing (in a good way). Chunhyang is a treat for the eyes, but murder on the ears.

When Chunhyang shrieks that it would be as impossible to serve two husbands as it would two kings, you get the feeling that the film might be a metaphor for that particular period in Korean political history.  For sure, it's a damning commentary on the vast chasm that lies between both the sexes and the socio-economic classes.  Like Tadeusz, it's beautiful and well-acted, but the emotional oomph was completely lost on me.

2:00 –

but contains nudity, very strong sexual content and violence