The strange thing about Kim Ki-duk’s Real Fiction is that the story behind the actual filmmaking process is far more interesting the ambitious, yet empty film itself. After months of planning and rehearsals, Kim stationed cameras in all his locations and with the help of eleven directors, proceeded to shoot the film in a mere three hours to give it a real and voyeuristic edge—complete with city camera-like static shots and actors performing in an environment closer to theatre than film.
The plot, however, is far simpler than the shooting. Ju Jin-mo plays the archetypal Kim protagonist: a quiet, struggling artist victim to the cruelties of the world. He lives a pathetic life drawing in the park at the mercy of customers who insult his ugly portraits of them, until one day, a girl recording him with a handheld camera invites him to a nearby theatre stage to have a little chat. Here, he meets an alternate and angry version of himself that sets him off on a cold, murderous path of revenge as he revisits a list of people that have wronged him in his life.
Chock full of symbols and possible allegories, Real Fiction might deserve praise for its sheer bravado in experimental filmmaking if it were not for the self-indulgent result. From the start, Kim’s film is less about its story and characters and more about himself as a filmmaker, which would be perfectly fine if we did not have to watch it.
Film theorists will perhaps find some material for their latest Kim Ki-duk essay in this meta-film with the possible interpretation that Kim himself is represented as the struggling, unappreciated artist drawing truthfully ugly portraits of real people. As the voyeur girl —the media— follows him around with a camera and records his every move, he lashes out, murdering all his bullies. This begins to sound more and more like one of those stories about an aspiring writer, who after suffering constant rejections from the agents he queries, decides to write a story about a totally unrelated fictional writer who brutally murders every agent in the world. And then the aspiring writer sends this story to the agents. Perhaps it might feel a bit cathartic for the writer, but it simply does not help any of the parties involved.
And Kim does exactly that with Real Fiction, attempting to respond his critics—much like Lars Von Trier later did with his successful Dogville. The difference is that Von Trier still manages a compelling story and simply defies expectations at times, while Kim perpetuates his stereotypes by depicting unsympathetic characters engaging in gratuitous violence and unnecessary sex scenes.
At its best, the film is hardly entertaining and it is scarcely enhanced by the difficult circumstances of the shoot—an uninformed viewer might be able to guess at it only at the end. Kim’s actors most definitely deserve some credit for their strong performances and their odd task of taking a theatrical approach to a film. But as for the film itself, there is not much there, save for Kim’s venting. Devoted fans of the auteur may be the only ones pleased.
Reviewed by Tarun
