"The enemy is war itself" says one officer near the end. "Soldiers deserve to die" says another.
Such opinions are shared on both sides of the infamous border arbitrarily drawn around the 38th parallel in 1945 by the victors of WWII, the USA and the Soviet Union. The useless war didn't change a thing. Worse, a peace treaty has yet to be ratified and the border has since become a wall.
On a similar theme, soldiers fighting for a hill, Front Line is closer to Platoon than to Hamburger Hill. Director Hun Jang has a word to say about the reality of war that is radically opposed to John Irving's faith in patriotism and glorification of official virtues, whose contradictory passions for pseudo-realism and war porn are second to none.
Indeed, there is blood here as well, there is mud, and all the flying limbs that you can dream of. Yet the comparison stops here. There is not a hint of a glorified vision of war in Hun Jang's opus because there is no glory at war : true heroes don't kill. Survivors do, at the risk of becoming desensitized.
I like to think of John Irving as the Russ Meyer of war flicks. A deranged paintball gamer's dream of hell, with plenty of eye candy. A mud bath mixed with blood. Orgasmic for some, otherwise forgettable.
Oliver Stone is the moralist, always weighing the good and bad, essentially focusing on the small picture. Polarizing, in effect, annoying for quite a few, and this will come as no surprise.
Hung Jang is the humanist, a master propaganda shredder. The big picture guy. A rarity.
Such opinions are shared on both sides of the infamous border arbitrarily drawn around the 38th parallel in 1945 by the victors of WWII, the USA and the Soviet Union. The useless war didn't change a thing. Worse, a peace treaty has yet to be ratified and the border has since become a wall.
On a similar theme, soldiers fighting for a hill, Front Line is closer to Platoon than to Hamburger Hill. Director Hun Jang has a word to say about the reality of war that is radically opposed to John Irving's faith in patriotism and glorification of official virtues, whose contradictory passions for pseudo-realism and war porn are second to none.
Indeed, there is blood here as well, there is mud, and all the flying limbs that you can dream of. Yet the comparison stops here. There is not a hint of a glorified vision of war in Hun Jang's opus because there is no glory at war : true heroes don't kill. Survivors do, at the risk of becoming desensitized.
I like to think of John Irving as the Russ Meyer of war flicks. A deranged paintball gamer's dream of hell, with plenty of eye candy. A mud bath mixed with blood. Orgasmic for some, otherwise forgettable.
Oliver Stone is the moralist, always weighing the good and bad, essentially focusing on the small picture. Polarizing, in effect, annoying for quite a few, and this will come as no surprise.
Hung Jang is the humanist, a master propaganda shredder. The big picture guy. A rarity.