Memories of Murder; A Farm Village Thriller

Memories of Murder, directed by Bong Joon-ho, is perhaps one of my favourite Korean films of all time. If you haven't seen it, stop reading now. Go and watch it, then come back and continue reading. Below is a modified version of an essay I wrote for my Cinema East module, analysing the importance of setting and the extent to which Memories of Murder could be described as a Thriller.    

Before garbing Memories of Murder in the dress of the well known - if somewhat vague - Thriller genre, one must first look at what tropes this classification contains. Only then can one see where the devices of the Thriller can be applied to the film. The conventions of the thriller are as broad as its sub-categories, but there is a overarching recognition that a thriller should induce heightened emotions such as; exhilaration, anticipation, expectation, uncertainty, anxiety, suspense, excitement, tension and terror.

These emotions are engendered through narrative devices like red herrings and cliff hangers. Cinematic devices can also evoke the Thriller's emotions; for example an ominous mise en scene, or fast paced editing to build suspense. Attempting to cover all of the characteristics typical to the ‘rich literary feast’ of the Thriller would require much more time and space than can be discussed in a brief overview. However, regarding the most obvious tools of the genre, Bong - as a self-confessed fan of  the classic thrillers of Hollywood - has managed to generate the intense emotions distinctive to this genre. 

Ostensibly, one could view Memories of Murder as a thriller in a Korean setting - the small developing city of Hwaseong, far from the bright lights of Seoul. Certain scenes track the last movements of the victims, evoking the apprehension and suspense in-keeping with the thriller genre. What could be more chilling than a woman walking through Hwaseong's dark paddy field singing, only to hear the killer whistling along, as we realize the terrifying truth - she is not alone. We are provided with the thrill of the chase as the detectives pursue a suspect. Yet this chase is not in cars on a highway, but through the back-alleys of the small town. The detectives tear through narrow streets, hindered by a ill-placed rubbish bins, only to lose, find, re-lose and finally capture their target. Memories of Murder  provides the roller-coaster of emotions as we follow the detectives being dragged through mishaps and mistakes at the mercy of external events. 

From this point, the similarities with the Hollywood Thriller begin to thin. Bong has not used the villain as the only means to drive plot, as general convention would stipulate. Instead the detectives are thrown around by Bong’s ‘strategy of reproduction’, which is a technique of weaving real events from 1986 into the world of the film. The detectives are further waylaid by shamans and school gossip, and to some extent are even victim to the weather. In fact, the poster used to advertise Memories of Murder focuses on the desperate faces of the detectives, while in the foreground the photograph of the suspect is blurred. Surely Bong is demonstrating that while the killer's identity is important, or perhaps forever unknown, the film hinges upon the hopeless mission of the detectives. 

As a consequence of presenting the main characters as powerless, Bong challenges the typical Hollywood notion of a climatic ending where the mystery is solved and the killer defeated. A Korean audience may be aware of this theme far earlier than foreign viewers, as the name Hwaseong recalls the 1986 case. The setting and contemporary events invoke their personal memories of the murders, and ultimately the failure to resolve it. Thus as the film begins, it is bound with a tragic undercurrent of ‘forgone defeat’. However, the cause of this failure remains ambiguous. 

On the one hand Bong presents the police as blundering by series of contrasts throughout the film. Our first introduction to a sergeant is him tumbling into the crime scene, contrary to the suave entrance required of a respected crime solver. The detective's impotence in the investigation is portrayed by the almost slapstick way they fight and fall over; they are more 'clowns' than serious crime solvers. An interrogation is interrupted by the entrance of a boiler repairman, whose presence goes unnoticed by the detectives. Furthermore, halfway through the intense chase scene driven on by rhythmic non-diegetic sound, a detective stumbles in on a family at the dinner table. This juxtaposition of significant events punctuated by moments of triviality produces a comedic effect when it is least expected and ensures that the audience never view the detectives as fully competent. On the other hand, Bong also contrasts the idealised role of the police, who are supposed to be the maintainers of justice, with the harsh reality of the political situation of 1986. This connection to contemporary politics and events places blame at the door of the era; the incompetence of the military regime and the under-development of Korea failed these women. 

Detective Park greets Detective Seo with a fly-kick after mistaking him for a rapist 

Detectives Park and Cho visit a shaman to try to reveal the killer's face

While we long for a hero character who can prevent the gruesome fates of the victims, what we are given is far from that. Detective Cho Yong-gu comes to epitomise this disparity. Cho uses his authority to abuse and beat suspects, he punches a female protester and drags her along by her hair, he makes misogynistic comments about his colleague while he is meant to be preventing crimes against women. This antithesis is summed up in the amusing but disturbing image of Detective Cho’s shoes. There is the contrast between the strict black shoes of regiment and order, which he covers with a flowery shower cap to prevent blood from his “interrogation methods” marking them. Hence Bong elicits frustration in the audience over the lack of an untainted protagonist and lack of control the detectives have over events. They waste time bickering while the killer remains uncaught. However, Bong was not just implying that the detectives’ inability was due to personal flaws, but more importantly as an allegory to criticize the era.  

Detective Cho's boots, complete with flowery shower cap

Memories of Murder could be described as ‘archeological’ film, to borrow Walter Benjamin's term. Bong used archaeological methods as his film looks back to the incidents of Korean society in 1986 and incorporates snippets of events from that era. Furthermore, the setting of Hwaseong once again uses contrasts to present the problems of the development, or more correctly, underdevelopment, of Korea. Bong opens with extreme wide shots firmly placing the film in a small city where rice cultivation is still an important way of life. Detective Park, resident of rural Hwaseong,  Yet the industrial park bordering the paddy fields is an imposing, dominating feature. The looming factory provides a reminder of the economic change taking place at the time. Extreme wide shots continue throughout the film and Bong incorporates the characters into them, but they are minuscule in comparison to the vast fields. Like a landscape painting, extracting the characters from the era or setting is impossible. Or perhaps Bong wanted to show the characters are all victim to the larger forces at work in Korean society. For example, the portrait of Korea's military dictator looms down from the wall in the police station with a constant presence. Either way, this firmly roots the film in a Korean setting and in a specific time in Korean history. 

The fields of Hwaseong - wide and bleak

The detectives chase a suspect to a large industrial quarry

However, Hwaseong is more than just a setting for a thriller themed plot. Memories of Murder is more than ‘archeological’, at its core it is a Korean Thriller. The strategy of reproduction actually alters the narrative as contemporary events are used as turning points; the riots prevent police from being deployed to Hwaseong to stop a murder, and the television reports of police brutality tip Detective Cho over the edge. This unfortunate train of events leads to the death of their only witness, the mentally retarded Kwang-ho. Bong presents Detective Park’s powerlessness in the opening where a long take  shows the chaos around him as we follow his viewpoint and see his only evidence get destroyed. 

Furthermore, the helplessness of the detectives is represented through the motif of the blackout, which was a common practice in the military regime of the 1980s. The blackout drill not only provides the killer with the perfect opportunity to abduct and kill his victims under complete darkness, but it is also a metaphor for the cluelessness of the detectives, who are figuratively left ‘in the dark’. Actual fade outs to black are used after the killer captures his victims, a vestige of traditional thriller as we dread what happens next. Moreover, the blackouts also implicate the government in the murders, who force these drills upon the populace, placing the maintenance of their social order above the safety of their citizens. A portrait of the military dictator hangs above the police in the station while they discuss the crimes. This simple aspect of mise en scene implies the government is always at the top of the hierarchy delivering justice and law. Thus the failures of those at the grass roots are symbols for larger failures of the system, summed up with the DNA tests which have to be sent to America as Korea has no facilities conduct the tests. 

Another possible metaphor for the ignorance of the detectives could be the expansive rice fields. The tall stalks allow the killer huge freedom of movement while also being able to remain completely hidden. If one enters the rice fields there is a limited area which is visible, but if you never venture in then you will never find what is hidden within it. The rice paddies also conceal one of the first victims, one which Detective Park believes to be alive and living in Seoul. This is an aspect of the film that simply could not be translated, as the rice fields are typical of Korean scenery and provide a staple diet for East Asians, compounding the relationship between the narrative and the setting. Memories of Murder is inextricably Korean as it relies on events of the 1980s to drive the narrative, it exploits the social consciousness of the failures of the era, it uses the setting of Hwaseong to represent how 'pathetic', as said by another Korean director, Korea was at the time. Bong has expanded the Thriller; the disappointment of the ending evokes a sense of pity and frustration, and leaves anything but nostalgia in the minds of Korean audiences as they recall the blackouts, the oppression, the police brutality and most of all their own weakness.  

Bong himself described Memories of Murder as a ‘farm village thriller’; the plot is far too interwoven into Korean society to be transported elsewhere. It belongs in the small town of Hwaseong; ‘farm village thriller’ removes the grandness of ‘crime thrillers’, or ‘psychological thrillers’, and encapsulates the frustration of the lack of a solution because it represents the backwardness of the times. With young Korean directors of the 2000s there was a movement - intentional or not - to merge genres or weave in a distinctly Korean flavour into them. Bong may have been caught by the drive that he “can’t do it like Hollywood, and mustn’t do it like Hollywood” due to financial constraints and cultural pride. In which case Memories of Murder is a success in diversifying what a thriller can achieve and how it can manipulate people’s emotions and memories.