This review may contain spoilers.
Of the nine Korea-centered stories this year, Woo Min-ho’s blockbuster “Harbin” stands out in this year’s Toronto International Film Festival line-up. For the film’s world premiere, the Gala Presentation filled the Roy Thomson Hall to the brim. For each time visiting talent – including none other than Lee Dong-wook and Hyun Bin himself – walked along the aisles, squeals and stray “Saranghae’s” rippled through the crowd. Needless to say, the excitement in the air was palpable.
Harbin is screening at Toronto International Film Festival
The film itself was not as brilliant as its festival sheen, however. “Harbin” revives the Korean independence hero, Ahn Jung-geun (reincarnated through Hyun Bin) in early 20th century Manchuria. Ahn, alongside a group of dedicated independence militia the Righteous Army, plots to assassinate Ito Hirobumi, the first Japanese Resident-General of Korea who totally annexed Korea to the Japanese Imperial Army. To do so, he and his crew must smuggle themselves into Russia, collecting allies and weapons alike – only to find that, even in the most ideologically pure resistance, there remains a mole among them.
As a CJ Entertainment production featuring one of Korea’s biggest stars, the film is an undeniably gorgeous period piece. In the film’s introduction, Woo Min-ho mentioned that he commissioned the London Symphony Orchestra to record the film’s swelling score, which resounded well within a traditional concert hall. “Harbin” is also visually striking. Sweeping wide shots of the unforgiving Manchurian winters pair well with the claustrophobia of the closed trains the fighters must travel in. Lush wooden interiors underscore the Japanese militia’s crisp uniforms, clashing against the freedom fighters’ ragtag disguises. From wooded battlefields to rickety Vladivostok apartments to the beaux-arts Harbin train station, Woo Min-ho indulges in immersing his audiences in Ahn Jung-geun’s world.
Subscribe to AMP newsletter by clicking on the image below
The plot does little to humanize Ahn Jung-geun, however. Woo Min-ho remains reluctant to draw us deep into Ahn Jung-geun’s subjectivity. In fact, all of the freedom fighters remain dedicated to the cause. They share little mention of other priorities, other than loved ones who have died or had been brutalized at the hands of their colonizers. The ideological commitment resounds loud and clear as they ask, time and time again: How many of their brethren must die before achieving independence?
This unwavering fervor is inspiring, but it also lends itself to blending the characters together. Hyun Bin’s acting gets buried under a monotone script; as a historical hero, he is a little too perfect. He also shines less in his role because Woo Min-ho deliberately introduces a plethora of other characters and moving parts. This presents a cinematic double bind. On one hand, the importance of the collective effort towards Korean independence translates well from history. On the other hand, the emphasis on the mass of characters, rather than each individual’s humanizing backstory, puts at risk of viewing the freedom fighters just as the Japanese must view them: an anonymous group of ragtag rebels who have one leader to quash, at the end of the day.
“Harbin” only becomes moderately more compelling, then, when the film introduces its spy subplot. For the first time, we see one of the characters beyond Ahn actually being interesting. The character (of whom we cannot reveal, because of spoilers!) does the best with what he can with his limited character development. Even his betrayal is incredibly trite and surface-level, however. Without much to his name other than his own cowardly self, it is difficult to sympathize with any sense of internal struggle.
Audiences on the premiere night viscerally reacted to the film’s blatant patriotism, clapping when the mole finally re-commits himself back to the Korean cause. This, I think, is one of the many clear markers of “Harbin” as yet another flagwaving Korean film. Woo Min-ho’s latest feature attempts to join the ranks of other similar historical episodes from the 2010s, such as “The Admiral: Roaring Currents” (2014), “Ode to My Father” (2014), “Assassination‘” (2015), and so one. Unlike the others, however, “Harbin” struggles to take Ahn Jung-geun off the pedestal, or to at least keep us at the edge of our seats. It ends up more akin to the Berlinale-premiering “Exhuma” (2024), which neatly packages anti-colonial sentiment for an international stage. Lightly put, it may receive a generous welcome in the Korean domestic market; in more harsh terms, international audiences may find the nationalism alienating.
Within the TIFF crowd though, spectators were enthusiastic to the very end. A few people cried “Daehanminguk mansae (Long live Korea)!” as the credits rolled, while others squealed for Hyun Bin and Lee Dong-wook as they strolled onto the stage. If anything, perhaps “Harbin” is better as a metonym for the Korean film industry than it is a watch in and of itself. This high-budget production fueled with star power is nothing new, but exporting its national allegiance does make one think.
