Korean cinema returns to familiar territory with another portrait of Ahn Jung-geun, the legendary independence activist whose 1909 assassination of Japanese statesman Ito Hirobumi has been dramatized countless times. The weight of depicting this near-mythological figure would give any filmmaker pause, especially under the looming shadow of "Hero," the blockbuster musical-turned-film that cemented Ahn's superhuman image in popular consciousness.
Director Woo Min-ho's "Harbin" announces its ambitions loud and proud right off the bat. A solitary Jung-geun trudges across a frozen wasteland, captured in sweeping drone shots that turn the Tumen River into an abstract canvas ― jagged white veins snaking through translucent blue ice sheets. It's both a technical flex (shot with the same Arri Alexa 65 cameras employed in Hollywood epics "Dune" and "Mad Max") and a thematic statement: This will be an intimate portrait of the man behind the myth. When the film reveals Ahn as an independence guerrilla fighter, it plunges into a visceral winter battle where poetry meets brutality ― faces lost in mud and blood, bodies locked in desperate hand-to-hand combat.
A technical swagger runs throughout the film. Shot in Mongolia and Latvia with a whopping budget of 30 billion won ($23 million), "Harbin" flaunts Hollywood-caliber drone work (courtesy of the "Mission Impossible" veterans of Studio XM2) and sweeping desert vistas. Never mind the historical improbability of Korean freedom fighters crossing Manchurian deserts ― this is spectacle first, accuracy second.
At its core, "Harbin" runs on a straightforward, propulsive plot, which is precisely what a year-end crowd-pleaser needs. When his act of mercy toward Japanese prisoners leads to the slaughter of his regiment, Ahn plots the assassination that will reshape history. A mole in the ranks adds tension, though anyone familiar with Korean history knows where this train is heading ― the fateful shooting at Harbin Station. Woo keeps the momentum through noir aesthetics, adeptly deploying deep shadows, hidden basement meetings and black-coated men entangled in betrayal through the brisk two-hour runtime.
Woo has proven himself the right man for masculine intrigue before, from the pulpy pleasures of "Inside Men" (2015) to the more somber "The Man Standing Next" (2020). Here, he prioritizes forward momentum over character depth, relying on the actors to flesh out what the screenplay leaves blank. And in today's era of diminished attention spans and cheap thrills, perhaps that's more than enough.
But "Harbin" is a film that clearly aspires to more. The potential for something profound lurks beneath its polished surface, particularly in its mission to strip away mythology and expose raw humanity. It's really a lost opportunity since this fresh approach to Ahn's character could have set it apart from countless mythological portrayals that have come before.
In its brightest moments, the film seems genuinely concerned with exploring Ahn's inner life. When tragedy strikes, the man doesn't just stoically ride it out ― he begs for his comrades' approval as he writhes on the ground like a wounded animal, curling into the fetal position in dark corners. It's an interesting departure from the marble-faced patriot of "Hero," one that is ripe with so much opportunity and potential. The addition of substantial supporting characters, including Jeon Yeo-been as a rare female independence fighter, also hints at a more nuanced exploration of the collective struggle to liberate Korea from Japanese colonial rule.
Unfortunately, these promising avenues are largely stymied by overwrought execution.
The chief culprit here is not so much the acting per se as the screenplay, which drowns in self-important solemnity and teeters on self-parody in its exaggerated gravitas. Though Hyun Bin, known mainly for romantic TV fare like "Crash Landing on You," makes a surprisingly competent turn as Ahn, the supporting cast often struggles with theatrical dialogue that flattens complex historical figures into patriotic cutouts. Perhaps the notable exception is Park Jung-min, one of Chungmuro's most exciting rising stars, who brings refreshing cynicism to Woo Deok-soon and cuts through the faux solemnity with his earthbound charm. His naturalistic performance operates in a vastly different artistic terrain than, let's say, Lee Dong-wook's at times comically wooden line readings.
"Harbin" ultimately joins other serviceable Korean historical epics like "Assassination" (2015) that favor patriotic spectacle over human complexity. It fills its narrative gaps with heavy-handed appeals to nationalist pride and ancestral gratitude. The visuals dazzle and the pace never falters, but depth remains elusive. Then again, it's the holiday season ― sometimes a decent period thriller is exactly what the moment requires.
moonkihoon@heraldcorp.com
