Subway Cinema Tagged Articles at Cinematical

Forget about Kung Fu Panda. Wash the memory of Forbidden Kingdom out of your brain. Ignore the trailer for The Mummy: We Love China, Yes We Do! (or whatever it's called). The real deal is on view this weekend as the New York Asian Film Festival opens for business.

The 7th edition of the festival kicks off tomorrow afternoon at the IFC Center in Manhattan with the North American premiere of Masato Harada's The Shadow Spirit. The first evening presentation features the world premiere of Ryo Iwamatsu's Then Summer Came, with the director in attendance.

This year the festival will show 43 movies, plus two short film programs, their most ambitious outing yet. Organized and presented by Subway Cinema, a "New York-based film programming, exhibition and marketing collective," as they describe themselves, the selections lean toward the pop side of Asian film culture, which happens to be my favorite kind; in fact, I've already written about The Butcher and Public Enemy Returns.

If you're a New Yorker, this should be etched on your viewing calendar, but even if you're an outsider looking in, like me, the program notes are very much worth reading. To give you a further taste, check out our gallery, and then visit the NYAFF site to read and see more about one of the very best festivals in the world.

The New York Asian Film Festival is celebrating its fifth birthday this year with its largest-ever slate of films: 25 features on just two screens, most of which are making their New York or US debuts. The festival is dedicated to exploring "the latest and greatest movies from Asia," and the 2006 line-up includes works from Japan, China, Korea, India, Thailand, and Malaysia. The festival runs from June 15 to July 1; watch the official website for ticket and showtime information.

With its mix of serious documentary-style footage and outrageous CGI, Ski Jumping Pairs: Road to Torino 2006 is nothing if not unusual. The film, co-directed by Riichiro Mashima and Masaki Kobayashi, grew out of a CGI short about people ski jumping together (not side-by-side, mind you -- on the same set of skis) made by Mashima in 2002; Kobayashi directs the live-action sequences. The idea of pairs ski jumping is a very funny one and, indeed, parts of the movie are hilarious. But it bogs down in the middle, and so frequently derails itself that audiences are left wondering what might have been.

The New York Asian Film Festival is celebrating its fifth birthday this year with its largest-ever slate of films: 25 features on just two screens, most of which are making their New York or US debuts. The festival is dedicated to exploring "the latest and greatest movies from Asia," and the 2006 line-up includes works from Japan, China, Korea, India, Thailand, and Malaysia. The festival runs from June 15 to July 1; watch the official website for ticket and showtime information.

A Bittersweet Life is an utterly gorgeous film. Filled with surfaces so polished they seem to glow, and tableaus so carefully composed they look like paintings, it aspires to and often achieves a magical sort of visual perfection. Each scene and face is lit with aggressive disregard for reality; director Kim Ji-woon's only concern is what looks best, and his meticulous attention to detail is our reward as we take in one sumptuous image after another.

For a time, the film's content matches its look. At the center of A Bittersweet Life is Sun-Woo, a tightly controlled gang enforcer who, after seven years of service, has earned the trust of his employer. Played by Lee Byung-hun in a narrow black suit, Sun-Woo's resemblance to Alain Delon's Jef in Le Samouraï couldn't possibly be accidental. Lee shares Delon's wide, blank eyes, as well as his uncanny ability to make his face go completely slack. Like Jef, Sun-Woo is disciplined, unquestioning, and careful. And, like Jef, he make a conscious choice to disobey his employer over a woman. After the betrayal, both men use their ruthlessness and skill for themselves for the first time, a choice that makes turning back impossible. In Le Samouraï, Jef's actions are smart, informed, and decisive. In A Bittersweet Life, however, both Sun-Woo's and the film's careful control fall apart, and what had been an intelligent, highly promising convergence of character and structure turns into a bloody mess with a sky-high body count and very little in the way character development.