Freud to a crisp

The Irish Times - Friday - The Ticket - - FILM - TARA BRADY

MOE­BIUS

al vis­ual Bud­dhist poem ( Spring, Summer, Fall, Win­ter . . . and Spring) and mourn­ful bi­o­graph­i­cal doc­u­men­tary ( Ari­rang), his most ground-break­ing work has trolled het­eronor­mal­ity and bour­geois fam­ily val­ues. In Kim’s crazy-town bor­ough of the moviev­erse, free­dom is beat­ing some­one to death with their own golf club ( 3-Iron) and love is feed­ing your fake mon­strous mother a piece of flesh from your own thigh ( Pi­eta).

Even by Kim’s ex­treme stan­dards, Moe­bius main­tains such a pit­bull hold on its straight-world tar­gets that it en­ters a shad­owy realm of post-sub­ver­sion. Pic­ture, if you will, a vi­cious par­ody of Kim Ki-duk’s most vi­cious par­o­dies. There are, ac­cord­ingly, sev­eral blackly comic se­quences that put one in mind of the South Park episode Eek, a Pe­nis!.

A pro­foundly vis­ual sto­ry­teller who never uses a word where a pun­gent image will suf­fice, Kim’s 18th fea­ture dis­penses with di­a­logue al­to­gether. Its char­ac­ters are name­less: we as­sign their fa­mil­ial roles ac­cord­ing to spa­tial re­la­tions and the roof over their heads. The queasily close cam­er­a­work is an ap­pro­pri­ate show­case for in­ces­tu­ous shenani­gans. The per­for­mances see-saw be­tween reg­i­men­tal still­ness and ex­plo­sive vi­o­lence. Con­san­guin­ity has sel­dom looked blood­ier.

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