Park Chan-wook’s new film is the vampire romance the world should really be obsessed with!
Song Kang-ho: Priest Sang-hyun
Kim Ok-bin: Tae-ju
Kim Hae-sook: Madame Ra
Shin Hae-kyun: Kang-woo
Oh Dal-su: Young-du
Marcedes Cabral: Evelyn
Song Young-chang: Seung-dae
Eriq Ebouaney: Immanuel
Directed By: Park Chan-wook
Written By: Park Chan-wook and Chung Seo-kyung
Release Date: July 31, 2009
Running Time: 133 minutes
Rated R for graphic bloody violence, disturbing images, strong sexual content, nudity and language.
Of all the memorable moments in Park Chan-wook's new vampire film Thirst, of all the rules in vampire lore that he messes with or contorts, the one image I cannot shake from head is the beauty of the Priest gliding through the air. This vampire has powers, and one of them is the power to leap high distances, but it is executed with such a grace and panache that is so rare these days. But Chan-wook knows exactly when to pull away from these jumps. He understands that if he displays this ability in excess, it will become overdone and cheesy to the audience. This is primary strength of Thirst. Its director knows precisely how much and how little to include of various elements.
Many of the best horror films are not totally horror at all, and the same could be said of Thirst. You could refer to it with numerous labels. Chan-wook tosses in romance, religious guilt, satirical tendencies on family values, and plenty of brutal violence for the blood craving maniacs. Calling it a crazy and chaotic ride is an understatement, but Chan-wook weaves all these themes together with the smooth fluid motion only an artist like him would. Thirst showcases Park Chan-wook's development as a filmmaker who also does not forget those traits that brought him international exposure. Thirst is a work of sheer cinematic brilliance, and it is one of the best films of the year.
Based loosely on the Emile Zola novel Therese Raquin, Thirst follows Priest Sang-hyun (Song Kang-ho), a man who only wants to help people. He values life so passionately that he volunteers himself for a secret vaccine development project that is intended to eradicate a vicious virus. Unfortunately, the virus quickly disables the Priest, and a blood transfusion is immediately administered. The blood however, is infected, and now Sang-hyun must live as a vampire. As his body changes, his desire for blood increases. As he struggles with how best to approach this in his daily life, his situation becomes further complex when Tae-ju (Kim Ok-bin), the wife of a childhood friend, requests assistance in escaping her life. What results is a love story unlike any other.
Much of the praise one could afford Thirst involves spoiling certain plot points and twists, so sadly, I must refrain from doing so. Nevertheless, it is important to note that many of the actions taken by the characters were unpredictable and shocking, but they made sense at the same time. For instance, the relationship between Priest Sang-hyun and Tae-ju is one that does not ignite overnight. The feelings they share for one another take time to cultivate, and when they do it takes some rather zany curves. Another example is the intriguing sub-plot concerning the group of devoted followers that worship Sang-hyun, or "The Bandaged Saint" as he is called by many. The fact is, Thirst is a journey that is exciting, provocative, and surprising.
The director has many difficult tasks when he sets out to craft a film. For Park Chan-wook, many associate him with his brutal depictions of violence, or that inimitably bold style, and while both are present in Thirst, what is given a higher priority is the manner with which he connects with his cast, and not just the leads. Priest Sang-hyun is portrayed by Song Kang-ho, and while he might not be a household name, his face will be instantly familiar to fans of The Host, or previous Chan-wook efforts for that matter. This is his fourth film with Park Chan-wook, and the rapport is quite clear. His performance is touching, brave, and thoughtful. He is a man of faith, but he is also a vampire, and also in love, so the conclusions he arrives at are not hastily made. Kang-ho is an actor with exceptional talent, and Chan-wook finds all the right notes in his wonderfully delicate turn.
Kim Ok-bin is a relatively new face in Asia and in America, but she is perfectly cast, and establishes chemistry with Song Kang-ho instantly. She plays Tae-ju, a depressed woman who is not everything she seems. Her character's behavior is not so strange when one considers the environment she lives in. She endures a controlling mother-in-law who would lock her in the bedroom with her sickly husband to prevent her leaving, and her husband Kang-woo's endless demands (including help masturbating). She conveys the desperation and longing of a woman who needed a savior in her life, but Ok-bin's depiction truly takes off during the final portion of Thirst.
Shin Hae-Kyun is Kang-woo, the self-centered and spoiled husband of Tae-ju, who is a walking illness. The darker comedic tone stems from the scenes involving this character. Hae-kyun knows he must exaggerate the role, but he does not go overboard. Simply looking at him induces a chuckle. Many of the most compelling exchanges in Thirst occur between the Priest and an older Priest, who is blind. One notable sequence has the Father sticking his hand inside his chest and then feeling the wound to prove he is a vampire. This also exhibits the proficiency of the special effects. Park Chan-wook never lets the camera linger too long on scenes like this because the flaws would eventually reveal themselves.
Of course Thirst is laced with blood, gore, and wacky mayhem, but it always means something, and is never included gratuitously. Chan-wook's aptitude in staging enhances the effect of the blood. At one point a room is painted entirely in white. He does not get hung up adhering to the rules of the vampire genre, and that makes Thirst increasingly satisfying. Every shot is framed with precision timing. Credit for so many breathtaking shots also goes to cinematographer Chung Chung-hoon. Furthermore, the score from Cho Young-uk is matched with the film perfectly, and swells during all the appropriate times.
Those who are only familiar with Oldboy might be startled when they watch Thirst. The pacing is reserved and controlled in the vein of Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, and the humorous stroke recalls I’m a Cyborg, But That’s Ok, his terrific film that is still unreleased in the US to date. So many filmmakers get hung up on the action in vampire tales that they forget what is most important, which is the characters, the relationships, and the story. Thirst is suitably intense and entertaining, but it wants to plunge the viewer into the solemn existence of the Priest and the ideal love that eludes him. Thirst is a lasting and stimulating experience, one that should not be missed.
The 411: Thirst is certainly one of the best vampire films in recent memory, and I say that because it will not get lost in the shuffle years down the road. This one will always stand out from the pack due to the competency of the cast, the brilliance of the director, and the depth of the screenplay. It marks what is probably Chan-wook’s finest film behind Old Boy. As of now it is only available in a very small number of theaters, but remember this one if it comes to a theater near you. The ticket will be worth the money.
