The type of film “Lipstick” aspires to be is clear. It wants its audience to know loud and clear that it is perfectly ok to be yourself, and that whilst some may not take to it, you should be undeterred from showing your true identity to the world. However, the messaging occasionally becomes lost in muddied layering and subtle meanings, which somewhat clouds the overarching, optimistic intentions of the quadruplet of directors.
At the core of proceedings is Jin Joon-won, an adolescent who tussles with both his gender and sexuality identity amongst an unforgiving school setting. The traditionally masculine men here are intimidating to this scrawny, dainty looking boy, and despite the evident irony in the fact these bullies take pleasure in comparing penis sizes, choose to target the defenceless teenager out of disgust that he may wish to want to apply lipstick to himself. Their resulting acts may be more embarrassing than brutal, and less torturous than they are rooted in ignorant hostility, but it leaves a lasting scar, and forces the protagonist into a pit of self-despair.
However, an encounter with Chan-mi, an outgoing woman who exudes endless confidence and a firm belief in who she is, does begin to change things. Soon, Jin finds himself at a hopeful point in his life, flanked by an imaginary friend who is a reassuring presence, which thus allows him to make peace with what he wishes to experiment with. “Aren't we pretty?” Chan-min asks, a question which receives a sanguine response, and affirms that the young man has found who he really is.
It is the truly heartfelt, reassuringly promising aspect of “Lipstick” which truly allows the short to have polish. After all, a lot of LGBT centred films can often veer on the side of endless melodramatic troughs, so a truly jubilant peak, even with an ambiguous ending, feels refreshing. It also allows for the message of self-acceptance to come across in a more grounded manner, and in a way that is entirely believable to wider audiences. In that regard, the directors are smart with their choices, and keep the breezy brevity of the short tight enough to allow the succinct messaging to translate easily onscreen.
With that being said, the lack of subtlety in some aspects does rather harm the movie. For one, it is too evident that Chan-min is a fictitious female presence who is meant to signify the inner-self of the protagonist, and embody the wholly comfortable side that Jin has yet to find in himself. For all its good intentions it does cheapen things slightly, and fails to come across as smartly as intended. Furthermore, the unexplained open-ending leaves the viewer confused as opposed to curious, which unfortunately does mar an otherwise well-structured piece of work.
Acting wise, Yoo Jun offers a solid performance, delivering his lines with an anxious authenticity and drawing out emotion well enough with his adept facial expressions. The inexperience of the actor may be clear to experienced watchers, but there is nothing wrong or misplaced which would warrant any strong criticism.
Technically, there is not much to say, with some general good colour use from Wayne Lo, Supriya Sundaresan, Tin Win Hlaing and Jeff Yong ensuring a smooth experience, whilst the team also avoid doing anything overly ambitious to maintain consistency. It is rightly never flashy, and the foursome's work never takes away from the important onscreen messaging.
All in all, “Lipstick” is not a particularly rousing film, but it does have a strong, supportive message towards a community who find themselves marginalised in society. Credit must be afforded for the directorial team for largely avoiding melodramatic tropes often seen in offerings of this ilk, and for in turn creating something which is easier to digest than the average LGBT film, and more appealing to watch.
