7.30.2012

천국의 우편배달부 / Postman to Heaven: A Korean Movie Review

There's an old red mailbox in a vacant grassy field and hurting people come here to send letters to their dead loved ones. One man is taking the letters, reading them, and trying to make answers to questions where maybe there are no answers.


               천국의 우편배달부/Postman to Heaven is a 2009 South Korean-Japanese film, part of a telecinema series of films made for Asahi television and directed by Lee Hyung Min. It also happens to be the very first Korean drama that I've ever seen. Although Postman to Heaven starts out a little rocky with a poorly written storyline, what saved the film for me was it's tantalizing photographic cinematography. This review contains no spoilers. 


The basic storyline of Postman to Heaven is compelling in it's way, but it starts off really slow and isn't helped much by sub-par writing. For the first ten minutes of the film, I honestly felt like I was watching Korea's version of a Lifetime movie and I seriosuly considered walking away. But cheesy lines are much easier to swallow when they're uttered in a beautiful foreign language and you're reading the subtitles and hoping the translation is what's making the characters sound so chiche. I forced myself to get past the first 20 minutes and I was quickly hooked. The postman, Shin Jae Joon, is portrayed by K-pop singer Kim 'Hero' Jaejoong in his first ever acting debut and co-staring with him is Han Hyo Joo who plays a girl by the name of Jo Ha Na. Jae Joon and Ha Na meet in a lush green field where Ha Na has come to mail a letter to her dead ex-boyfriend. She discovers Jae Joon removing all the letters out of a red mailbox where people have come to send mail to those who have passed on before them. Curiosity and anger about Jae Joon's removal of the letters forms the foundation for the couple's blossoming friendship. What happens from here is a complicated, sometimes disjointed storyline where Jae Joon enlists Ha Na to help him in answering the letters in curious and unusual ways, and, well, you can only guess what happens from there.


 Ha Na as a character is a bit difficult to stomach in the beginning. She's whiny and fully of classic Korean aegyo while Jae Joon is sullen and all serious with his hair always in his eyes and his wearing all black all the time. What saved Ha Na for me was that it was visually really fun to watch her frolicking around empty fields and adorable Tahitian coffee shops in lacy skirts, leather boots and long flowing scarves. Fair warning: by the end of this film, you too will want to frolic around an overgrown field while wearing a lacy skirt and a long flowing scarf. Visually, I couldn't be as entertained by Jae Joon as I was by Ha Na and perhaps this was because I'm still not entirely comfortable with the super-skinny, lots of chest-area-showing fashion statements made by the majority of K-pop artists. Call me crazy, that's just how it is. However, when Jae Joon put on some clothes, and a peacoat, and a scarf, and some glasses for the final scene of the film, I did in fact gasp in sheer delight.


At the beginning of this review I noted that what made this film for me was it's photographic cinematography. Postman to Heaven is shot in a muted, natural colour sceme and most of the film takes place either in a grassy field or in one of many little coffeeshops. The feel of the movie reminded me of film photography. The cinematographer employs shallow depth of field throughout the film as a way to focus on particular moments and feelings by putting everything but the character who is speaking out of focus. I liked this method. I also liked how much time the characters spent in coffeeshops, photography studios and the post office. Basically, every conversation that took place in this movie was over a cup of coffee and there were so many close-ups of various brew-methods that my barista-self was squealing with delight at Korea's beloved coffee culture.


The only confusing part about the cinematography was a red cherry necklace worn by Ha Na for different, disconnected parts of the movie. Although Ha Na is always wearing many, many layers, the red necklace stands out quite a bit because her colours are always natural/beige/off-white. I was trying to figure out the significance of the necklace, but I couldn't, and what made it more frustrating was the fact that it just showed up again halfway through the movie, halfway through a scene! Jae Joon wears a trademark necklace in the film as well, but the symbolism for his necklace and his colour-sceme is obvious, Ha Na's red cherry necklace is not. I thought the cherries were a random movie mistake at first, but she ended up wearing the necklace for most of the second half of the movie and in a few scenes she's seen fidgeting with it. I can't quite figure out if there's some significance that I didn't fully catch. If you know, please tell me. 

Postman to Heaven is a touching movie for anyone who has ever lost a loved one, but beware, it is a bit heavy at times. It's full of little sub-stories and intimate moments that literally had me tearing up from beginning to end. To be honest, I actually paused the film quite a bit to made coffee/go outside/ walk around, so it might have had an even greater impact on me if I had watched it all in one sitting. 





7.29.2012

Things accomplished.


Today:
1.) Woke up.
2.) Worked 8 hours.
3.) Drove to Seattle and parallel parked in the tightest space.
4.) Brainstormed self-introduction lessons for Korea.
5.) Easily found my way from downtown to Ballard without getting on i-5
or getting lost.
6.) Discovered amazing new coffeehouse in Ballard called Ballard Coffee Works.
7.) Drank a $7.00 cup of drip coffee! Eep! I had no idea! The barista asked me what kind of slow-brew I wanted and I asked her what she recommended and then she rang me up! It was a delicious cup of single-origin Sumara brewed with a Chemex, but still, the price was steep!
8.) Had a thoughtful theological conversation with a friend.
9.) Sang 'Be Thou My Vision' and 'Nothing But The Blood of Jesus' at Mars Hill. It was wonderful.
10.) Got totally lost because of a detour coming home.
11.) Tried out a new way to get home from Seattle and discovered that i-5 North + 405 South + 522 East is maybe just as fast as going from i-5 to Lake City Way, but it is really, really the long way around. This just  confirms that I've been going the best way all along and I'm alright with that.
12.) Climbed in bed at 10:30pm. That's leaves about 4.5 hours of sleep before I need to wake up for work again.

There are some things that I simply won't miss about being a barista.

7.23.2012

Mythology. Or something like it.

Every family has it's own legends- stories filled with the heros and larger-than-life characters of our pasts; the kings and queens we descended from. Sometimes, these are actually mythologies and not a bit of truth is in them. Sometimes, they're true.
My grandmother, Lois, at 15.

This summer my grandmother turned 100 and it was my job to scan the photos and make a slideshow for the gigantic party we threw for her. In the process, I spent a lot of time mediating on her story, which is connected to this other big thing which I rarely talk about.

My grandmother was fifteen when she felt called to preach. That was in 1927. A few years earlier, her father, a pastor, had gone down to California, to a place called Azusa street and everything had changed for them since then. Her father was subsequently kicked out of leading their brethren church and the whole family was branded as "holy rollers." After she was finished with high school, my grandmother went to the closest Bible college she could find which was all the way down in San Francisco. There, she worked in a street ministry and on Sundays she sang on the radio and did a Sunday school lesson. My grandmother was really close with her sister, Verna, and they were in college together.

After college, my grandmother and her sister became the pastors of a tiny church in Oregon. The town had 500 people and the church had 5 members but soon it grew to over 30 people. They rented a tiny house in those days and since it was during the Great Depression, the rent was $5.00 a month.

One winter my grandmother and her sister went out in the snow with some of the young people from their church. They had been invited to go skiing, but since it was so cold, some of the boys lent them some jeans to wear under their dresses. The very next Sunday, they found their church padlocked and it was explained to them that since they had worn boy's clothes, they'd lost their jobs. Early pentecostals, you know how it is.
Lois & Verna as pastors

After that, my grandmother and her sister worked in a mission in Oregon, and soon after they moved to California where Verna fell in love and got married.

My grandmother was alone after that and ministry seemed impossible.

She moved back to Seattle and got a job in a restraunt. One day, a soilder came in. They became acquainted and the soldier said he could find my grandmother a better job. Eventually, they fell in love and got married.

I guess this is the crux of the story. My grandmother felt "called to the ministry" ever since she was 15. As the legend goes, she knew she was never supposed to get married and certainly not to someone who wasn't a Christian. When she met Galon Elihu Prater, she knew and felt it in her heart that it would be wrong to marry him because he wasn't really the right man.

But she loved him.
So, she did it.
She was 24 years old.

This was once just a story to me. Things are different now. I feel as though I understand the story better. What terrible disillusionment my grandmother must have felt when she was fired from her role as a pastor just because she wore men's jeans in the snow. How lonely she must have felt after Verna got married and she was left alone in Seattle. As I was scanning the old photos of my grandmother in her 20's with her new husband these past few weeks, it all became so real to me. I get it. I get where she was coming from and I could never judge her harshly for the choices she made. Who doesn't want to fall in love? Who doesn't want a family?

I don't always understand God. I don't know why some people seem to land on this earth with a dream as far away as the skies and a lifetime of jumping toward the heavens to reach it. I don't understand why others are a bit more ambivalent about things like destiny or calling. Why do some of us feel like there's so much to do while others don't? What will happen if we don't follow our vague inklings?


It's something that we scarcely talk about. Even with my closest friends, it's a subject rarely breached. Oh, I've seen snatches and glimpses of the stars that some of my friends' are jumping for. But I know I can't expect them to be completely transparent when I, too, do most of my jumping and reaching in the dead of night while nobody is watching and when no one can see if I happen to trip and fall.  

I think about it all the time. I wonder if I'll make it, if they'll make it, if any of us heard right about what we're supposed to be down here doing. It's awful important for something that's so hard to talk about.

Maybe we're talking less about our dreams because of the dead economy. Maybe because some of us have become so disillusioned and confused about what to do with this thing called The Church. I certainly miss the days when I didn't question so much, when I didn't find fault in so many people.

There's a happy ending to the story of my grandmother. Years after she got married, after her husband had lived a long life and after she had raised kids and had many happy years, after all of that, she did follow her calling into the ministry. She sold everything she had a started an orphanage in the Philippines and it's still in operation today while my grandmother, who is 100 years and one week old lives at home with us and still whispers a prayer over every plate set before her. I hope that God is pleased with her. I'm sure that He is.

Some days, I'm full of questions that I don't know the answers to, but that's okay for now.

I wish that we all had the courage to talk more about our dreams.

He fought in both World Wars.
My grandmother.
Husband & their 3 little girls in Virginia.
Together.
The hotel they owned in downtown Snohomish.
The start of my grandmother's adventures in the Philippines.
Part of the orphanage...
In the public market..
Transportation. Does that little girl look familiar? 
Dinner time at the orphanage..














7.17.2012

image stories

I have not had much time to write anything lately, so, I present to you a blog in pictures. I recently did some reorganizing/cleaning and I'm borrowing a really nice camera from a friend right now, so I thought I'd take pictures of some of my belongings and post them. 






My baby shoes. My mother always talks about how I fit into newborn shoes until I was like, two or something. 
I keep this little purple clown in an old film canister. He's from one of my earliest, strongest, and fuzziest memories. I think I behaved myself while my mother was in a bank one day, and this was my reward. Anyways, it's always seemed important. 
From 2000, in a journal. Around the same time I took a painting class and did a big watercolour of a similar scene. I'm not sure where that is now. 
I forgot that I had left so many drawings in my original journal. This is from 12/2/2000. Oh, so glad I'm not a teenager anymore....


What I inherited when my birth mother died. It's used to water plants.
Coloured pencil drawing from April 1997.  Scene from Prince Caspian.
An attempt at organizing earrings and other such things....
All but one of my film cameras,  I mostly use the two on the right.