Cine wanderer: Seoul searching

A vibrant, gritty look at 1990s Seoul, Kim Sungsu’s City of the Rising Sun (1998) has a rare understanding of the contradictions that lie behind the appeal of living in a big city. While a metropolis can offer a myriad of physical and mental stimulations, such a profusion can just as easily leave one feeling lost. The constant tension between excitement and aimlessness mirrors the conundrums faced by the film’s twenty-something characters, whose eagerness to grab life with both hands is at odds with their uncertain futures. In charting the ebb and flow of an unlikely friendship, City of the Rising Sun also captures the new face of a rapidly changing country.

Prior to the unprecedented success of Squid Game (2021-), which made Lee Jungjae an international household name, the charismatic actor was already a beloved star in his home country. In this early performance, Lee stars as Honggi, a small-time crook who worships money. In contrast to Honggi’s suave, street-smart craftiness, struggling boxer Do Chul (Jung Woosung) is a quiet type whose reserved exterior belies his turbulent emotions. Working as debt collectors for a loan shark, the pair strike up an endearing camaraderie, where Honggi counters Do Chul’s naivety with his dog-eat-dog philosophy.

They share a cramped bachelor pad, but the young men are often out together on assignment, their dynamic chemistry matching the vitality of the city. Recurring scenes of Honggi and Do Chul simply strutting down Seoul’s streets are shot with humour and swagger, set to The Searchers’ 1964 cover of ‘Love Potion No. 9’, which becomes a motif for their friendship. Filmed in slow motion, these moments draw attention to Honggi’s wardrobe of swanky suits, body-hugging graphic T-shirts and flashy Diesel sunglasses. Compared to Do Chul’s more understated outfits, Honggi’s fashionable ensembles reflect the character’s materialistic outlook and consumerist preoccupations.

It is worth noting that aspirational consumption was relatively novel in 1990s South Korea. In Han Unbound: The Political Economy of South Korea – published the same year City of the Rising Sun was released – the sociologist John Lie observed that while in the 1970s only 6 per cent of the country’s population owned televisions, by the late 1980s practically every household had one. With TV came the spectacle of wealth, in adverts and soap operas; by the 1990s, the dream of life in the big city had become a dream of conspicuous consumption. Honggi’s expensive (or, at least, expensive-looking) clothes and his ambition one day to own a high-rise apartment building are facets of a new belief in the accumulation of material possessions as a sign of success.

Seoul was the symbol of South Korea’s economic growth, but it emerges here as both a national and international space. The soundtrack mostly features famous songs by Western artists like Radiohead, but one nightlife sequence shows Honggi and Do Chul joining a crowd of clubbers enthusiastically swaying to Uhm Junghwa’s contemporary hit ‘Poison’. (Junghwa, known as the ‘Korean Madonna’, was hailed as the embodiment of the new Korean woman, her pop anthems epitomising the free spirit of the 90s generation.) It’s a neat demonstration of how urban youth culture in 1990s South Korea was built upon local as well as international influences. But even in the throes of youthful abandon, material concerns are never far from the minds of the partygoers. Immediately after the hypnotic beats of ‘Poison’ die down, Do Chul’s dancing partner asks him if he owns a car – a way of gauging his background.

Forever out of reach, Honggi’s dream of property ownership has driven him to excessive gambling, robbery and even a betrayal of Do Chul’s trust. The grip this fantasy exercises on his psyche is unsurprising: everywhere he looks, his gaze is met with the sight of towering concrete. Drowning in debt, he contemplates jumping off a high ledge. Constructed in the 1970s, when the government incentivised private builders as part of a programme to rebuild the city, this high-rise modern housing is a visual manifestation of the wealth gap. As luxury complexes were erected in central areas, poorer citizens were forced to relocate to the suburbs. A high-rise building represents a ladder that lets some citizens escape their pitiful social status. For Honggi, however, his property ambitions remain confined to a poster of the coveted building, which he lovingly affixes to the wall of his humble flat. It’s an object of desire that remains inaccessible to those who are left behind as the country marches on to promises of prosperity.

The film ends on a seemingly hopeful note, as Honggi and Do Chul sit on a rooftop and watch the sun rise over Seoul. It is a new beginning for the duo, though it is uncertain whether they can escape their precarious circumstances. From a lofty vantage point, the camera lingers on the sky-high buildings that hem the city in like prison bars. Made at the cusp of a renaissance in South Korean cinema, City of the Rising Sun was sadly overlooked by audiences at the time. It also just missed the beginning of worldwide interest in South Korean films. Though underseen internationally, this important time capsule endures. More than 20 years after its release, Jung Woosung and Lee Jungjae have reunited in Lee’s directorial debut, the spectacular political thriller Hunt (reviewed by Lou Thomas). During the promotional tour for their new collaboration, ‘Love Potion No. 9’ continued to accompany their interviews – reaffirming the importance of their partnership in City of the Rising Sun.