Movie Review: A Frozen Flower

By Angela Roberts

Frozen Flower poster

The Korean historical drama, A Frozen Flower, is a beautiful and compelling tragedy that is almost Shakespearean in its complexity. Set during the medieval Goryeo period, the film tells the tale of a forbidden love triangle between a king, his queen, and his chief guard, and not the type of triangle that most people would assume. Hong-lim is the chief of the Gunryongwi, the personal bodyguards of the King. Hong-lim, along with the other guards, has grown up in the palace alongside their King, and he and the King become lovers. But the king has to have a queen, so he marries the girl chosen for him, a princess of the Chinese Yuan dynasty, which dominates Korea politically at this time. Korea is a place dominated by China and threatened by attacks from outside and within. As time passes, the King is pressured more and more to produce an heir, but he can’t bring himself to consummate his marriage. Enter Hong-lim, the man he trusts and loves more than anyone. The King persuades his lover to take his place with the Queen, not realizing the world of trouble he creates for the trio. Awkward and feeling betrayed, Hong-lim and the Queen despise the arrangement at first, but slowly they find comfort in each other’s arms, and lust blossoms into a true love affair. The two are driven to be together, despite the fact that their love is an act of treason. When the King finds out, his vengeance is swift and brutal, starting a cascade of violence that can only end in death.

The sets and costumes in this film are absolutely beautiful and amazingly evocative of their period. The three actors who play the main characters are subtle and talented, able to portray a full range of emotions; passivity, passion, anger, awkwardness, etc. Although the film was not really about battle, there are several incredible fight scenes with amazing choreography and beautiful passion. The first battle scene where we get to see the full abilities of the Gunryongwi in action is a measured masterpiece. We also get to see in many of these action sequences a King who is perfectly capable of fighting alongside his guards, and is really far more talented at swordplay. This is one of those details that broaden his character and make the final devastating climax more believable. The King and Hong-lim are more than equally matched, and when they truly come to blows with nothing held back, their battle is gorgeous in its destructiveness.

Only two things can really prevent you from enjoying the film fully. I found the sex became somewhat over-used, almost pornographic in its depiction. I don’t use the term pornographic in the sense that it was too graphic (there really is only one sequence where you see that much of the actors) but in the sense of the director not really knowing when to draw the line as to what is needed for the story and what is just an attempt at titillation. The strongest example of this is the extended sex sequence where the Queen and Hong-lim are shown in sexual position after sexual position in a work of film editing that immediately reminds the viewer of a boring porno. For a film that is supposedly so controversial, it is very conservative in its depiction of sexual pairings; there is only one sex scene between Hong-lim and the King, and the actors are only shown from the waist up. This is contrasted with the numerous and repeated scenes with Hong-lim and the Queen. However, some of the first scenes between Hong-lim and the Queen are very impressive in terms of acting and the handling of intimacy. When the sex scenes reveal character and work with the plot, they’re very good. There just seemed an unnecessary interest in pushing the envelope, and that envelope eventually burst.

Another problem was some of the corny dialogue. This is where the audience’s focus on the drama became impaired. Often nervous laughter would ensue at some cheesy comment or gesture made on screen. There were a few groaners, often accompanied by cheesy looks or editing. The start of the laughter was definitely when the King pats Hong-lim on the shoulder before he’s to go into the Queen’s chambers for the first time. It was so ridiculous that it’s not surprising that people laughed. But laughs continued throughout, especially when the melodrama was carried a bit too far. Perhaps this nervous laughter can be explained by the North American audience’s lack of tolerance for melodrama, or it could be indicative of the discomfort that North Americans have with Gay/Bi subject matter. The castration scene elicited a very similar reaction in the audience, especially with its brutal realism.

The real cheese came at the very end, however, when we see Hong-lim and the King riding together blissfully in Heaven. It was rather ridiculous when we’ve just watched the two men savagely kill each other, and Hong-lim has claimed that he never loved the King (something that I found silly and overly dramatic since the actor did an amazing job of depicting his character’s at least infatuation with his first lover, but anyway). The “everybody is happy in Heaven” bit that gets tacked on to this movie turned out to not be the only time I would see it in my film-going at Fantasia. It’s a fascinating trend, certainly worthy of a scholarly paper. But suffice it to say that it diffuses a lot of the emotional release that we experience at the end, and I’m not sure it’s something I approve of.

But, when it comes down to it, A Frozen Flower was an amazing film, certainly worth the viewing.

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