National Post (National Edition)
A strained combination of action, harrowing history
Located off the coast of Nagasaki, Hashima Island, known as Battleship Island, was used for decades as a coal mine. During the Second World War, Korean and Chinese citizens were brought to Hashima as slave labour. Director Ryoo Seung-wan’s latest film, The Battleship Island, depicts Hashima at the end of the war, following an attempted mass escape from the mine.
An historic action film, The Battleship Island focuses on the Korean people interned at Hashima, including Lee Kang-ok (Hwang Jung-min). A bandleader who performs with his Shirley Temple-esque daughter (Kim Su-an, who gives a remarkable performance), he is brought to the island while attempting to leave Occupied Korea for the safety of his family. Upon arriving, men and women are separated: men sent into the dangerous mines, and women sent into sexual slavery in “comfort camps.” When the Japanese realize they are losing the war, they decide they must destroy all evidence of their crimes, including the Korean witnesses at Hashima. With no other option, the workers organize an elaborate escape, culminating in a bloody showdown.
Ryoo’s film is an effective action adventure. It is wellshot, and well-performed. But there is a tonal imbalance. Drawing on fun genre tropes, the film makes detours into brutality. Scenes where children are killed in the mines, or where prisoners are bayonetted while begging for their lives, are nearly unwatchable. The visceral reality of wartime atrocities are mixed with moments of pure cinematic fiction. For instance, there is one scene that begins with a Korean independence leader being tortured with vicious cruelty, but ends with the prisoner giving an uplifting speech and exemplifying heroic strength in the face of his captors. It is not that these moments undermine the historical gravity of the film’s content, but that they create a conflicting viewing experience.
The Battleship Island prompts one to wonder if the action-movie amusements are necessary or empowering. Does their inclusion result in softly gliding over history for entertainment — and can this subject matter ever really be entertaining? The highly estheticized prison break is married to bleakly realistic violence, making it an incredibly uncomfortable viewing experience.
Though Ryoo excels at both action narrative and harrowing history, the combination of the two feels strained.