Die Bad is a wonderful piece of Korean work. I’d go as far as saying it is very good, and I rarely say that if you know what I think of most films. Shot on a low budget, the films is divided into four segments, each of which tells the progressive tale of two main characters and how the different paths lead to a tragic end.
In many ways, Die Bad reminded me of John Woo’s classic Bullet in the Head. In the latter, three friends become involved in a gangland war during a time of actual war. They live their lives as ruffians and thugs. When two of them decide to leave that life, the third decides to stick with it and become big. It’s a tragic story about the twisted friendship that eventually leads to tragedy and death, and the break up of friendship.
With Die Bad, a similar stance is taken in that the film is about friendship, but this also focuses on a vicious, cold revenge as well as adding some hilarious comic humour. The four segments are Rumble; Nightmare; Modern Man and finally Die Bad as per the title. I’ll tackle each segment briefly.
Rumble
A hilarious and vicious opening with a schoolboy being pummelled to a bloody pulp by another schoolboy. The sound effects accompanied are that of an arcade game along the lines of street fighter. The school boy who did the beating heads over to the snooker hall and brags to his friends what he did, and tells in some brilliant direction what he did. Across from them are two students who are close to graduating.
Suk-Hwan hates the thugs and is keen to beat them up, Sung-Bin however is trying to control him, reminding him that he’s close to graduation. The two groups eye other, with even a dream like sequence where a fight occurs. When Jintaa, the friend of Sung-Bin and Suk-Hwan comes in bloody faced, he points out the school thug who caused the damage. Chaos ensues and death makes an inevitable entrance in a high octane, adrenalin pumped, metal thrashing fight.
All of this is wonderfully contrasted by the bellowing annoyance of the snooker hall owner, who things kids like these are too wild and deserve to be clamped down upon just like the 70s when martial law was brutal and unrelenting. He has little care for this kids or what they do, in reality, as long as they don’t do so on his patch.
This segment was originally made in 1998, and it certainly shows with the low quality film, scratches on the picture and the faded colouring. In many ways, it works better this way, as each segment actually becomes better in quality which culminates in the brutal ending. So, ironically, it seems to work better, as this serves as a past and is displayed as such.
Nightmare
Sung-Bin is out of jail after 7 years, but is constantly reminded of the death he caused. His fear haunt him, and it doesn’t help that his probation officer is an arshole, along with a father who is embarrassed to call him his son. The family he has is, for want of a better word, dysfunctional.
One day he finds a man being beaten up; the man is a crime boss called President Kim who runs the district, and seeing the dead boys face he starts to beat up the guys thrashing Kim. Having helped him out, Kim offers Sung-Bin a way out by working for him. Having tried to contact his friend Suk-Swan without so much as an offer for a drink, Sung-Bin decides he has nothing to lose and joins.
Modern Man
This is perhaps the funniest and most epic segment, as it consists of a massive brawl between Kim and Suk-Hwan (who is now a cop). There are some truly touching moments of humour, such as the cop and thug explaining why they wear the clothes they do, and why they have their haircut in a certain – all of which is to work in their favour should they get into a fight.
Through a chance passing, the two meet and begin a fight that lasts for about 20-30 minutes, until both are totally exhausted, and even then they seem deemed to continue until one loses. It’s an interesting battle, which is done in a documentary fashion, having intersecting segments where Kim and the Suk-Hwan give an interview as to what life is like as a criminal and as a cop, and how they both feel about the other side. It’s cleverly done, and almost musical in its rhythmic transition from interview to fight, and back to interview.
Die Bad
The final segment is filmed entirely in black and white, with colour used for the purposes of a flashback. With Suk-Hwan as a cop, and Sung-Bin as a new crime boss, climbing the ladder of thuggish success, we are introduced to Suk-Hwan’s younger brother, who always seems to be getting into trouble. hateful of the educational life, he decides he wants to join Sung-Bin after seeing him being treated with respect by the cops.
Suk-Hwan is wary but unaware that Sung-Bin would use his brother as a pawn in his game of revenge against Suk-Hwan. It’s a bitter, and dark fight which involves two battles: the one between the two old friends, now bitter rivals and that of Suk-Hwan’s brother and the rest of the gang against another gang in a brutal, and horrific battle that can only end one way.
The subtext of each segment is much more than just violence en masse; there’s a deeper, much more seeded depiction of the of angst and disassociation youths have with the system, and also a comment on the social aspects of South Korean life. The latter segment is particularly harrowing with the use of black and white, as it makes the whole experience much more gruesome and gritty to watch.
No two segments are the same, and all of them manage to provide something different from each other. The second segment contains some supernatural psycho-horror elements, even in their briefest form, they accentuate the trauma that Sung-Bin feels, right until the very last moment at the end of the film. It’s fascinating to think that the director has managed to expand one short film into 3 further segments and put it together as one single film. It’s brilliant, fascinating and thoroughly engrossing to watch. I enjoyed it as much as the twist and turns of Park’s films, be it Old Boy or Sympathy for Mr Vengeance. It’s that sort of aggressive realism with which you watch everything.
The director, Ryoo Seung-Wan went on to make a few more films, all along similar lines until 2004’s Arahan, where he managed to land a large budget and turn a simple story into a parody of other films, while providing a fun ride with the whole martial arts genre. The man definitely has talent and some interesting ideas, and I will certainly be looking forward to watching future works with much interest.
Verdict: Gritty and graphically violent story of friendship and revenge. Low budget brilliance