Eun-shik is a 28-year old college student, who simply can’t stop getting in awkward situations, especially once he falls for one of the most popular girls on campus: an aerobics dancer named Eun-hyo. Eun-shik’s group of friends, a team of martial arts performers trying to get laid, end up going out with Eun-hyo’s group, while Eun-shik is left pining over Eun-hyo, who can’t see him past her obligatory jerk of a boyfriend.
Bursting forth with aerobics class cleavage and a decidedly 80’s tone with “We got the beat” blaring on the soundtrack, Sex is Zero attempts a cross between the trashy Hollywood sex comedies from nowadays and twenty years ago and ups the ante. The film finds its passion in explicit, sickening toilet humor, but it’s not exactly the gross-out masturbation and sex jokes that are the problem here. It’s the predictability of it all.
Every scene of Sex is Zero’s first half quickly devolves into the least amusing game of connect the dots possible. A word of advice to aspiring comedy screenwriters: you need a pretty damn solid joke to get a laugh if your viewers see it coming from a mile away. Awkward sexual walk-ins or nauseating slapstick where characters eat things they aren’t supposed to eat are supposed to genuinely surprise us to elicit anything more than a groan. When Eun-shik tries to squirt ketchup and it flies across the room, landing in a suggestive place on a poster of a woman, it’s a rather painful two minutes to wait for the build-up of a girl walking in just as he decides to lick it.
Still, the comedy is not the worst thing in the world. It has its surprising moments and really succeeds when there’s an original idea in play. The problem is that most of the jokes are derivative filler for the slightly more interesting romance plot. Now Sex is Zero is not breaking any new ground with its narrative, but it is a rare Korean entry into the racy side of romantic comedies with gratuitous nudity galore. It is a bit odd then, that it finds its best moments in the sweetness of its lead, played with starry-eyes and dopiness by Im Chang-jung. While his absurd stupidity makes for some tedious, awkward comedy, most of his scenes with Ha Ji-won are light, accessible fun that has some of the heart of 80’s teen comedies to make the film worth watching.
The last act also takes the required dive into more dramatic material, but it’s not the seemingly shocking or surprising turns that work here. It’s the fun of seeing the comparatively low-key relationships come to a close without any pretensions.
Reviewed by Tarun
