In feudal Korea, several groups of peasants live in fear of a greedy king, who seems to benefit from starving residents while taking all metallic goods and tools from them in the hopes that it can help expand his own army. During one particular conflict, a young man named Inde is captured and sent to jail, where he sees that his future father-in-law, a well-respected blacksmith named Takse, has also been imprisoned due to resisting these requirements. Over the course of several weeks, the elder becomes ill, and as he draws his final breath, he crafts a small figure made from rice and clay, beseeching that someone or something will listen to his pleas to save the village from this tyrannical, ruthless madman. It doesn't take long, however, for his requests to be realized. The next day, his creation has sprung to life. The miniature monster, nicknamed "Pulgasari" by the villagers, has a knack for eating anything containing iron, and seems to grow in size after he has devoured enough. With this observation, the offspring of the now-deceased older man believe that this new arrival can be used to benefit the greater good, and along with other disgruntled, nearby villages, they can now crush the oppressive dictator.
To those with an open and keen eye, South Korea has certainly been anything but strangers to the realm of oddball cinema. In addition to releasing some stupendously excellent flicks in the fields of horror, action, and thrillers, they have taken a dip into the realm of monster movies on more than a few occasions (2006's The Host is a tremendous piece of work, and even the 1999 remake of their own Yongarry is decently entertaining). While some did ultimately wield mixed results, most of these aforementioned releases have certainly managed to catch the attention of those seeking out something from this subgenre beyond the walls of its countries of origin. Seemingly jealous, and praying to not be outdone, their brethren in North Korea were desperately hoping to reignite the film industry in their own part of the peninsula. So, in 1978, under the orders of the infamous Kim Jong-il, they decided to begin the slow attempt at building interest in North Korean cinema in the most logical way possible: they kidnapped famed South Korean director Shin Sang-ok and his wife/lead actress Choi Eun-hee, forcing the two to create and star in multiple motion pictures for the purpose of spreading both entertainment and propaganda.
As it turns out, Kim was a humongous fan of motion pictures. Before his demise in 2011, he was reported to have owned a movie collection that contained upwards of twenty thousand VHS tapes and DVDs. Still, I would bet money that he didn't usurp the amount owned by some particular friends of mine that currently reside in Wilmington! As the concoction for Pulgasari may tell you, he was also a rather big fan of the Gojira franchise. Of course, the irony of a nutjob such as him loving something that was quite staunchly anti-war and anti-nuclear weapons is just hilarious, but I digress.
To the shock of absolutely no one, Pulgasari feels like a mixture of political commentary and a low-rent knockoff of smaller Kaiju Eiga pictures (the similarities to Japanese production Daimajin are uncanny). There is a not-so-subtle attack on capitalism that can go over the heads of the youngest and most ignorant of viewers, but there is a good chance that the ideas of anti-communism and dictator bashing that pop up towards the final act can not be so easily ignored. Unfortunately, the abundance of our wailing, moaning, and mundane humans could make it rather difficult for them to even pay attention to these messages. While I can understand those who criticized the 2014 iteration of Godzilla for its weaker, non-kaiju protagonists or occasional lack of creature presence (even though the Big G himself only appears in his 1954 debut for approximately seventeen minutes), I could not tell you a single distinguishing characteristic about any of these individuals, with something as simple and vital as their own names seeming to be insignificant in the long run. Mind you, it has only been a mere twelve hours since I finished today's entry, so that is saying a lot.
Oh, and in terms of our titular character, he is far from the worst behemoth that I have seen on the big screen (the one to bear that mark of shame will appear in a later review), but he is not exactly something to write home about either. Pulgasari's facial features are certainly expressive, with its eyes and mouth operating much more efficiently than it has any right to. It is arguably the best part about the costume, and a highlight of the entire ninety-five minute-long experience. That is where the praise ceases though, as the overall final design just seems to be frankly lazy in most areas. When he is pint-sized, he behaves more like a poor man's version of a Mogwai or E.T., which was very likely done in the hope that it would entice children into venturing out to whatever Cineplex was nearby, which could in turn lead to a gaggle of merchandise being manufactured for the general populace to purchase. That, or veteran suit actor Kenpachiro Satsuma (yes, the same one mentioned yesterday) just decided to do whatever the hell he wanted to during production. He looks akin to a very strung-out combination of an Ultraman villain, a brown bear, a boar, and someone you see at a Kid Rock concert (go ahead, make a "Manbearpig" joke while you're at it). He looks like a meth-head minotaur who has been sitting out in the sun for too long. Sadly, he doesn't even have abilities beyond being able to grow exponentially larger after consuming enough iron. And man, you should have seen my face after one of the villagers exclaimed "It even ate my pot!"
*When you realize that Yongarry and even Guilala will receive sequels before you do*
The only way to possibly recommend something such as Pulgasari is to suggest that you view it as anything other than a kaiju movie. The action featuring the colossal creature is sparse, the score is pathetic, and the plot is filled with far too much happenstance. As luck would have it, when you are facing down a gargantuan threat during the years of the Goryeo Dynasty, you don't have to do much worrying, as there are a good number of mystical people and plot devices around to potentially stop or combat the monster. Even worse is the occasionally sluggish pieces scattered throughout, and had it not been for Satsuma's portrayal of Pulgasari himself along with the involvement of Toho Studios in the special effects department (spearheaded by their own Teruyoshi Nakano), I would have turned it off halfway through. And yet, when you factor in the sheer insanity that went into its creation and sole reason for existing, it is a fascinatingly bad film to view. As of now, the only way that one can properly attain a copy of this failed experiment is to buy it on the bootleg market, as it is highly unlikely that something such as Pulgasari will ever find its way into what video stores are left around the globe. Thankfully, it IS available for you to watch on the wonderfully weird cesspool known as YouTube. Oddly enough, there is also a documentary out there to rent titled The Lovers and the Despot, which chronicles the shocking story behind the capture of, and efforts from the couple during their forced tenure working under the orders of the North Korean government.
Oh, and what reward did director Shin Sang-ok receive when he and his wife were able to escape from the clutches of the evil Kim Jong-il and his own father Kim Il-sung? Well, they dipped out during a film festival in Vienna, Austria, managing to make their way over to the United States, and living secretly among the town of Reston, Virginia while being protected by American authorities. Then, when he felt comfortable enough to make a foray back into cinema, he made the following motion picture.
Well.....I guess that could be considered failing upwards?
Tomorrow, it's back to the land of the rising sun! This time, the titular foe is a bit........unbelievable!
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