Reviews
Revisiting ‘Pulgasari’ (1985), or “Remember That Time Kim Jong Il Made A Monster Movie?”
Did you know Kim Jong Il was a big fan of movies? It’s recorded that the second Supreme Leader of North Korea often said he wanted to be a film critic or a film producer as a young man. He even ended up writing the handbook that would shape North Korean movie making (titled On The Art of Cinema), and according to some sources he aided in the production of as many as 100 movies in his life. Among his best-known works are 1969’s Sea of Blood and 1972’s Flower Girl, both about the Korean independence movement of the 1930s and Korea’s conflicts with the Japanese occupation of the country. His best-known film Pulgasari, is a kaiju movie about a giant monster that eats metal.
A MYTH, A REMAKE, AND A DREAM OF MONSTERS
We are of course talking about 1985’s Pulgasari, a movie based on the Korean myth of the Bulgasari, or Bulgasal. It’s also loosely a remake of the 1962 movie Bulgasari, a lost South Korean film that, to my understanding, only a singular surviving copy of which is known to exist is in the custody of the Korean Film Archive. Despite its lackluster reception at the time, Bulgasari was the first piece of South Korean film to have proper special effects in it, making it an artistic watershed moment in Korean film history.
The Bulgasari myth that the film is based on goes as follows: an innocent blacksmith (or his daughter in some versions) is killed by an unjust regime, and an effigy of a monster is created and imbued with life by his wish, becoming the Bulgasari. The creature is then sent to destroy the oppressors by eating the metal from their weapons. The creature becomes gradually stronger and larger with each conflict, until it runs out of control. Seeking more metal to satisfy its hunger, it ironically conquers the people it was supposed to protect.
When a deep sense of love for filmmaking collided with an even deeper sense of nationalistic pride in the idea that North Korea could become a filmmaking powerhouse, Il’s efforts to make a film about this story turned towards the talents of South Korean filmmaker Shin Sang-ok, and his ex-wife Choi Eun-hee. Sang-ok was undoubtedly an odd choice for a medieval movie about a raging monster, since his experience and claim to fame was primarily in war dramas about the exploitation of women. A plan to get ahold of Sang-ok, combined with the revival of Godzilla in 1984 as the Heisei-era was set in motion, solidified Il’s plot.
As the story goes, a would-be dictator then kidnapped the South Korean national treasure’s ex-wife, using Eun-hee as bait to lure Sang-ok into his clutches. It was hard for outsiders to verify that the two hadn’t defected due to the country’s insularity, and that was the story that Il planned to keep running with. These weren’t the only crew brought on either, as Il managed to deceive a whole crew of former Toho employees to join in by faking a shooting schedule in China and bringing them to North Korea instead.
THE FLIGHT OF THE FILMMAKERS
And make Pulgasari they did, with Sang-ok residing in a labor camp for the majority of his time in the country. So, what did Kim Jong Il think of the end product of their captivity?
He loved it.
After all, it was very popular among the DPRK’s citizens and in the eyes of Il, a technical marvel. The only problem was North Korea’s film industry needed a serious infusion of cash flow after Sang-ok had made several other films at Il’s behest following Pulgasari. Il’s new plan to amend this was the opposite of his original: he would actually cut Sang-ok and Eun-hee loose and allow them to travel (under the watch of armed guard) to promote the film. He’d even send them to Vienna in hopes of securing foreign investors to fund another film, this time about Genghis Khan rather than a giant steel-munching monster.
Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, the couple fled at the first opening they got, and made it into the protective arms of the U.S. via the Venetian embassy; they even ended up remarrying after the fact. Kim Jong Il supposedly struck all record of Sang-ok’s work from the public eye as a response, expunging his name from the creation, and the rest is history.
PULGASARI AND THE SOUL OF THE MONSTER
There’s been, for good reason, a lot of reevaluations of Pulgasari and its artistic merits in recent years. Its creation was the perfect storm of cultural fears turned truth, fact stranger than fiction, and urban legend turned verifiably real event. It’s just too good of a story to ignore.
The film’s themes and narrative are dynamic in this context, reignited under the shining lens of new knowledge about how the film was made and the impact it had on North Korean culture. Some find it to be an unbelievably well-made piece of counterculture, secretly weaponized against the man who wanted it made in the first place. Others find it an unwatchable and disturbing relic of film history. And some even treat it as a cult classic that lives up in quality to its reputation as a real-life production.
Ultimately, I was somewhat underwhelmed with what I found when it came to the meat of Pulgasari. It isn’t boring, certainly, so it hasn’t committed the worst sin a movie can. But as much as I can talk about liking the sentiment of the original myth, its perennial idea of the power of the collective and the dangers of centralizing a movement around one person, and the performances being surprisingly good, there’s just one big glaring problem with this monster movie: the monster is the least interesting part in the entire runtime.
In my recent conversations of kaiju films as of late, I’ve talked about the presence of a well-made monster suit; the way the mise en scene of tokusatsu can reach through the screen and immerse you, add a new layer of life to the film. But when the Pulgasari becomes the monster he’s supposed to be, he doesn’t have any of that. Design-wise, it’s a fine suit with its vaguely-reptilian-vaguely-mammalian style. But there’s a distinct lifelessness that you’ll have to reckon with when watching it; it’s stiff in motion, and plastic in the most unappealing of ways. Its scale against the buildings and people around it feels weak, which is hard to ignore in a movie where the creature’s gimmick is that it’s constantly growing.
There are just so few expressive moments outside the time in its miniaturized form where the titular creature gets to live. It stomps around and destroys, but the stage-play sort of presentation in how it’s framed feels more strange than enjoyable. The Pulgasari has an uncanny evocation of fear in its glassy and bestial eyes, but it’s a one-trick pony as far as practical monsters go. Vaguely unsettling, with little else to offer.
WHAT WENT WRONG WITH PULGASARI?
I don’t blame the craft of the Toho employees or the performance of Kenpachiro Satsuma, a Showa-era Godzilla actor who had been taken along with them to play the Pulgasari. I think what happened with Pulgasari is, ironically, the same thing that happens with many horror movies. Making a monster movie is always a gamble, and not every kaiju film will be a Godzilla vs Hedorah, or Kaneko’s Gamera. Even beyond the unimaginable pressure of being kidnapped and forced to make a film, you can have a perfect storm of talent, and still end up producing something less than the sum of its parts thanks to the unending storm of circumstances and technical issues that plague film crews.
As always, I encourage you to see Pulgasari for yourself, if not for the entertainment value you might find in it, then for the mythos that have been unveiled about its making. It’s a doozy unpacking the film knowing the truth of its birth, and more importantly not that hard to get ahold of: there are more than a few uploads online that make the film free to watch.
For the first time looking for media for an article, the rip I’ve found is on YouTube is surprisingly high quality in its remastered state.
We’re far from the time when Pulgasari was a rarity that was hard to view, so if you take anything from this, take that as a small victory and take advantage. Seize the day, and happy watching horror fans!
Within the found footage subgenre exists an even more niche and untapped market. Screen life has slowly overtaken found footage; hardcore fans, like myself, ache for something different. One of the more interesting sub-subgenres of found footage is something that I don’t think has a name yet, so let’s name it here and now. How about…TV-gone-rogue! The TV-gone-rogue subgenre is small. Ghostwatch got the ball rolling for these gone rogue-like films, but there was radio silence for quite some time. It would be Chris LaMartina’s WNUF Halloween Special that really brought this idea back into the limelight. Many filmmakers have tried to make TV-gone-rogue interesting, and many have failed. That is until Simon Glassman stepped onto the scene with Buffet Infinity.
Buffet Infinity: A Chaotic Tale of Westridge
The town (city?) of Westridge is whisked into chaos when the new Buffet Infinity restaurant rolls into town. Local sandwich shop owner Jennifer Avery (Allison Bench) is the first to take the soon-to-be conglomerate to task with increasingly pointed advertisements. Suddenly, local restaurant owners/workers go missing in droves as Buffet Infinity expands into neighboring businesses. Sinkholes, missing cityfolk, quarantines, and mysterious sounds abound, leaving residents to ask one question…who really has the sauce?
On the Brooklyn Horror Film Festival schedule, the header image for Buffet Infinity shows multiple people T-posing and floating in the sky. I was immediately sold. I had no clue what I was getting into, and I didn’t want to know. The film was introduced as “one of the craziest we have this year.” (Slightly paraphrasing.) What was I about to watch? Little did I know, it was about to be an hour and forty minutes of small-town madness.
Writers Allison Bench and Elisia Snyder, and writer-director Simon Glassman, transport viewers into an upside down world of weaponized local ads; a thriving town invaded by the deep pockets of monopolized capitalism. As someone who grew up in a decently sized town, though probably not large enough to be considered a city, there was a tinge of nostalgia that accompanied Buffet Infinity. Westridge feels cozy and intimate, a town where everyone knows your name. It’s a “baked in a buttery flaky crust” town. Sure, they have their McDonald’s and Burger Kings, but the real townsfolk eat at Jennifer’s sandwich shop–local knitting circles murmur about what they think is in Jennifer’s secret sauce. Simply put, Westridge feels like a home that many people like myself grew up in. And it reminds us of a simpler time that’s long gone.
A Unique Blend of Humor and Eldritch Terror
Buffet Infinity hides its horror well. It slowly guides the viewer into a sense of unease. As easily as the creators have you laughing, they have you squirming. The absurdist joy quickly transforms into Eldritch terrors from beyond. Many filmmakers say they’re inspired by the idea of it’s-not-what-you-see that’s scary, but many times it feels performative. Bench, Glassman, and Snyder have crafted a truly special script that edges you with terror and excitement. They constantly push you to the edge of release, and then back away. It’s the Japanese water torture of exposition. And, for me, it works incredibly well.
One of the most important aspects of Buffet Infinity is the over-capitalization of our lives. While the creators tackle this idea in a tongue-in-cheek manner, their message is highly effective. For the most part. This constant tete-a-tete between Buffet Infinity and the locals is highly amusing, but brings a larger conversation to the forefront. The town I grew up in is a shadow of what it once was. And I know many feel the same about the towns they grew up in. I can already hear the moans of people who dislike this film: “Brandon, it’s not that deep.” And I would highly disagree. Buffet Infinity feels like a reflective protest film–a loud and proud middle finger at what we should have said when the Super Walmart put mom and pops out of business.
Sorry, this review has gone off the rails. Let’s reel it back in a bit.
Why Buffet Infinity Redefines Found Footage
Buffet Infinity is a riotous romp, a hilarious horror that goes from zero to 100 pretty damn fast. Each commercial slowly builds on its last and uniquely tells its story. This film sets a new precedent for the TV-gone-rogue subgenre. Not to directly compare, but a film like WNUF Halloween Special (a film I love) uses its commercials as a coda; it’s a separation of what you saw/heard and prepares you for the next movement. Buffet Infinity uses its commercial to create the story. Instead of watching news pieces, then irrelevant commercials, then back to news pieces, Buffet Infinity breaks the mold. Hell, it creates the mold.
As someone who has been dying to see a Welcome to Nightvale film, Buffet Infinity is the closest thing I could ask for. It is full of killer performances (looking at you, Ahmed Ahmed), is well-crafted, and sets a new precedent on an underutilized side of found footage. Buffett Infinity is a full-course meal. I highly suspect that Buffet Infinity will gather the unwavering support that Hundreds of Beavers gathered and will go on to be considered an instant classic of the 2020s.
We are all very much aware of how much time we spend on our phones. More importantly, anyone on the internet can see how younger generations are impacted by being constantly online. So, Zack Ogle and Aaron Pagniano’s new film, It Needs Eyes, is preaching to the choir. However, it adds creepy layers to the conversations many of us are already having today.
It Needs Eyes follows a teen named Rowan (Raquel Lebish) who is moving in with her aunt after a traumatic event. Her aunt Mella (Lydia Fiore) hasn’t spoken to the family in years. So, her relationship with her niece is strained to say the least. However, she has stepped in now that Rowan’s father is in the hospital. Further widening their divide is the fact that Rowan is glued to her phone.
The Internet Is Scary
We see Rowan watching random videos, as she tries to distract herself from her own thoughts while she worries about her father. However, soon, cat videos aren’t doing it for her, and she starts to find extreme videos online. Things escalate to the point that she is watching self-harm videos and clips of people dying. This addiction begins to make it hard for her to connect with the people around her, including her new neighbor and love interest, Alex (Isadora Leiva).
It Needs Eyes has a protagonist that many can relate to. After all, aren’t we all using these smart devices to hide from our own problems? Who among us hasn’t lost an embarrassing amount of hours watching videos and reels? However, because it’s driving in the internet addiction lane, Rowan’s need for content escalates. She needs darker videos in the same way that someone makes the leap into harder drugs. Her journey parallels nicely with her father’s battle with addiction, which is one of the many things Rowan doesn’t seem ready to face.
Addiction and Loneliness are a Deadly Combo
Rowan’s addiction, loneliness, and inability to fully connect with people not on her phone eventually leads her to stumble across the ultimate score. She discovers a woman named Fishtooth (Lola Blanc) who made videos in the 80s and seemingly disappeared. Rowan cannot let this mystery go and soon begins to follow clues that Fishtooth may be closer than she thinks. This is where the creepy mystery thread begins to weave itself around all of the other threads of the film. Before Fishtooth was introduced, I was starting to worry this movie would just be seven fucked up images in a trench coat.
It Needs Eyes is one of those movies you go back and forth on. I loved discussing the themes of it in the bar after the Brooklyn Horror Film Fest screening. I even really dug some of the twisted imagery and topics it manages to tackle. The movie deserves some respect for how it handles so many issues surrounding internet culture without straying too far from its path. If you’re looking for a dark exploration of how the internet is absorbing us and preventing us from being present in our actual lives, this is your movie. It’s an interesting and at times disturbing reminder that we should all unplug more often.
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