Crying Fist (DVD) (China Version) DVD Region All

Ryoo Seung Bum (from Arahan and No Manners) plays Yu Sang Hwan, an angry teenage punk with a penchant for crime. His out-of-control antics result in constant brushes with the law, a pattern of behavior that eventually lands him in prison. His hot-temper sparks a number of jailhouse fights, a fact which paves the way for his acceptance into the prison's boxing program. While Sang Hwan reluctantly steps into the ring to vent his frustrations, he soon finds that it may be his ticket out of his delinquent lifestyle.

Choi Min Sik (Old Boy), plays Kang Tae Shik the other half of the film's boxing duo. Unlike the wayward youth Sang Hwan, Tae Shik is an older man going through a midlife crisis of the most serious kind. Having once won the silver medal for boxing, Tae Shik is now up to his ears in debt with creditors and various shady criminal types. With his family disintegrating and his money situation dire, Tae Shik is forced to earn cash on the streets, utilizing his boxing skills in a most unconventional way. Rather than dish out punishment, Tae Shik is forced to take it, offering himself up as a punching bag for any passerby who's willing to pay the required fee.

Crying Fist cuts back and forth between the two characters, as they both struggle to take back a measure of control in their lives. The film does a fantastic job of integrating the performances of Ryoo Seung Bum and Choi Min Sik into one powerful whole. Each storyline is worthy of its own movie, but director Ryoo Seung Wan rightfully combines the two in order to avert formulaic notions associated with these kind of films.

Most boxing movies focus on a singular individual, an underdog who trains hard for the big fight. Even the most pedestrian boxing film will still be able to earn a hefty measure of sympathy and loyalty from its audience in favor of the film's protagonist. Crying Fist, however, succeeds in aligning the viewers with both of its protagonists, a circumstance which causes a peculiar kind of problem once the finale kicks in. If we, as the audience, recognize that each man desperately needs this win, who do we cheer for in the final bout? With our divided loyalties, we can only watch as the film's gripping resolution plays out, with no clue as to what will happen or what we hope will happen to our two characters. At the end of the day, it may only be a movie, but Crying Fist is a gritty, powerful film that captures your attention from the very first frame and throws you headlong into its double plot. Although who wins in the climactic bout is revealed by story's end, the real winner of Crying Fist is most definitely the audience.

By Calvin McMillin

My fears were unfounded, because this is a genre-defying drama which succeeds wonderfully. Choi Min Sik will always be watchable, whatever the role and whatever the film, and he imbues his down-and-out boxer with real humanity. Moments that, in lesser films, would have been cliched and saccharine, here turn our expectations around and force us to see the world as it can be, rather than through the lens of stereotype.

I have many favorite scenes here, but one that stands out concerns Gang (Choi) being beaten by a gang led by a former Asian Games teammate. Most viewers could recite the predictable path this scene takes, and they'd be wrong. Gang takes his beating, not with spitting defiance or whimpering fatalism, but with a dignity both stubborn and admirable. Choi handles the difficult task of presenting a man driven beyond his bounds but still clinging to whatever shreds remain of his past life, and handles it superbly. Not surprising, since every performance that Choi essays is marked by subtlety and nuance.

The greatest surprise, however, came from Ryoo Seung Bum, who plays Yoo Sang Hwan. Since I'd only seen him in Arahan, I must confess I didn't have a very high opinion of his acting skills. The fact that he's the brother of the director compounded my concerns. But his performance here is excellent: he inhabits his character with an angry energy that's totally compellling. No sign here of the charming doofus from Arahan, Yoo is all pent-up aggression and fury, erupting at the slightest provocation.

That is not to say that he presents just an aggressive bonehead, full of violence and braggadocio. We see that Yoo is constantly on the edge of exploding, but there's a tension keeping him in check. Even the way he smokes, long drags that draw the burning edge right up the tube, hints at the way he's struggling to keep from flying apart. The sheer physicality that he used in Arahan with naive enthusiasm, and which gave that film much of its energy and charm, here gives a portrait of a man constantly on the edge of explosion. Not much charm here, but a lot of energy.

Given these two fine actors, the story tells itself. There are some moments that drag, particularly those dealing with Gang, whose life is desperate and who has little reason for optimism. But these moments are few. As the focus shifts between the two desperate characters, we are entangled in their lives and problems, and when we come to the crucial fight, we find we're facing a fight where we want both fighters to win.

I won't tell you who wins, but I will tell you that I was surprised yet again by the quality of the fight scene. Not, I hasten to add, because of its bone-crunching and kidney-jellying effects, but because it was heartbreakingly realistic. For an audience more accustomed to MTV-style sharp cuts and frequent editing for 'highlights', it might seem tedious, but to me it displayed the reality of the fight, and the evolution of the characters, far better than any amount of dialogue could have done.

It also provided a suitable ending for a film that presents a microcosm of the human condition: you get a kicking now and again, but life goes on. Goethe would have been pleased. (Cultural note: Goethe penned the quote often attributed to Nietzsche: "What does not kill me makes me stronger." What's with those Germanic types, eh?)

8.5 heavily connecting punches out of 10

by Alison Jobling - heroic-cinema.com