The Sad Beginnings of Masculinity
CW: suicide
Take this title on its own and this could be the start of a truly terrible poem. But don’t worry, I’m not that cruel. Bleak Night, or 파수꾼 in Korean (literally ‘Watchman’ or ‘Lookout’) is a 2010 indie drama directed by Yoon Sung-hyun. Again, as I’m finding quite often in the film choices I make, it’s not exactly light-hearted. It tells the story of three teenage boys both before and after one of them has died, with the dead boy’s father trying to piece together exactly what led to his son’s death. Writing that brief summary out it sounds like this could potentially be a mystery movie, or even a thriller, but it is far from it. The boy, Ki-tae, has died by suicide, and the father, an absent figure in his son’s life, is simply seeking to understand the circumstances of why it happened.
In stark contrast to the violent revenge thrillers and crime dramas that seem to feature so prominently in Korean cinema, Bleak Night is a gentle yet complex look into the lives of three fairly standard Korean teenaged boys. There are no action scenes here, no artfully framed shots or obvious colour schemes: we’re in the realm of slice-of-life realism, with a deep undercurrent of tragedy flowing underneath. This film is emphatic in how understated it is, using a lot of natural light and handheld-style camerawork to really immerse the audience in the story of three boys and their relationships to each other while at high school.
Through this lens of realism, Bleak Night achieves one of the most beautiful examinations of young masculinity that I’ve seen in a long time. I will admit that I haven’t exactly been searching it out as a genre (because eww, boys, I’m a girl, no fanx), but nevertheless, it was incredibly refreshing. Seeing well-rounded teenaged male characters, and to have them in a narrative that so effectively displayed many of the problems that young men seem to have with communication, handling emotions, and developing relationships, was novel. (If you balked at this list of problems as particularly male in any way, may I simply show you any internet comment section to prove my point.) But I digress.
There is a great review on Letterboxd (also, I joined Letterboxd, follow me! rosevee11, say hi or something!) by the user Paul (hello if you see this), that says a lot of what I never could, from a male perspective, about this film. He opens it with the lines “Toxic masculinity kills friendships. Toxic masculinity kills.” It’s an incredibly succinct reading of this film’s core theme, dealing as it does with multi-dimensional young men and their inability to develop their emotions and friendships healthily. Coming from the last film I watched at time of writing (I Saw The Devil- sheesh), Bleak Night honestly says so much more about violence and darkness simply through these three characters’ interactions, it’s startling.
The story of these characters is that of Ki-tae, (Move to Heaven’s Lee Je-hoon), and his two friends Hee-joon (Park Jung-min) and Dong-yoon (Seo Jun-young). To give general character descriptions: Ki-tae is the typical Alpha Male, bravado and cockiness often slipping into cruel, bullying behaviour; Hee-joon is the meeker, quieter, more studious one, while Dong-yoon is a slightly aloof, more independent yet relaxed guy. They are friends at a high school, playing baseball on the abandoned tracks, taking trips to the beach with their female counterparts, hanging out at each other’s houses.
These descriptions set up a dynamic that feels familiar in both a narrative and real-life context. Perhaps it even sounds dull. But, with Bleak Night, the real beauty is in just how much life and subtlety exists in these characters, and how this informs the tragedy that we know, from the first scene, has taken place. Aware, as we are, that one of these boys ended up unhappy enough to take his life, the realism of these scenes takes on a profundity that gives the characters so much more potency.
Ki-tae, who is in plain terms a bully, is shown in many genuinely happy moments playing around with his two friends. Hee-joon, whilst quiet, asserts his opinion and his decisions in his own calm way. Dong-yoon, while laid-back, is at one point extremely blunt, almost cruel to his friend. We are given hints of background to contextualise these behaviours- for example, in the poignant moment where Ki-tae reveals that the reason he never invites his friends over (which they have been judging him for) is because his mother has left and his father is almost never home.
When he explains that he does not get home-cooked food, but has to make ramen himself, we can see a difference in circumstance that could explain his behaviour. However, this film is not so simplistic as to offer this moment as a full explanation. Just as in life, when poor behaviour is not excused but explained by situations, so too does Bleak Night only offer this context as another layer to the character. Ki-tae is not simply a victim of his life, but he isn’t a villain either. It’s, of course, so much more complicated than that.
And isn’t it the same case with modern masculinity? A frustratingly complex concept where emotions are as unacceptable as they are strong, where boys are so fragile whilst going ever further to prove the opposite? That is what is demonstrated through this film. It is beautifully done through a fragmented timeline, with Ki-tae’s father gently questioning his son’s former friends, who we then see in flashback as their friendship with him deteriorates. There are no time stamps, and scenes are left to unfurl as they are, cleverly leaving many moments up in the air for a while as we work out whether they are pre or post Ki-tae’s death. We also see the between scenes of life—there are no shots of his death or funeral, nary a grandiose speech in sight—and instead the film is mainly constituted by people talking.
It is through this talking—what is said and what is not said—that we receive the story and lives of these characters. It’s slightly confusing in its ambiguity at times, and of course, it’s frustrating how the boys react to each other at various moments, but it’s because that’s exactly how life works. Towards the start of the film, we see the three boys at their most joyful, playing together and joking about which girl they like. The dynamics shift ever-so-subtlely as Ki-tae’s jocular playing becomes less welcomed in class, and his friends express their distaste in distancing themselves. This eventually lurches into both of his friends rejecting him, Dong-yoon in particular telling Ki-tae that he never was his friend, and that he doesn’t really have any at all. This sounds like a conversation that could have been melodramatic, but instead is upsetting and brutal as we see the surprise and hurt Ki-tae feels in hearing this.
Why is this moment so brutal? Because it has been preceded by so many missed chances. There are multiple moments in the film where the boys cannot say what they want to, or stop at the point of expressing something. In a haunting echo of the father who was never there to see his son, these boys are simply not able to show up for each other truthfully, and so choose silence and distance instead.
This poignancy is only amplified by the brilliant performances, not least from Lee Je-hoon as Ki-tae. If you’ve seen Move to Heaven, the character he plays here almost feels like an origin story to the grizzled uncle he plays in that (brilliant) drama. His face is a masterpiece of restrained feeling, of fighting the sadness off and covering it with cruelty. He is unpredictable to watch, but never unengaging. It’s not easy to make a character like this, who could so easily be unlikeable, so sympathetic and compelling.
Ultimately, after all that rambling, Bleak Night is a great example of what I’m looking for in films about men and boys. As much as I will continue to despair until female characters are in movies as often as men are (50% of the world guys, 50%), I don’t think that means there is no space for good male stories, just like I wouldn’t want all-female stories off the table. What we see in this film is a kind, honest and open portrayal of how the dysfunctions of young male friendship can take such tragic turns.
Rather than a paper-thin fantasy where men cut each other up as vengeance for horribly murdering (totally narratively powerless) women, this is a film about real people who are male and who are troubled. I haven’t even touched on their relationships to the girls in this movie, as I don’t think it’s the focal point here, but even there we see female characters more fleshed out and significant than we do in a lot of bigger movies.
For a first full-length feature from director Yoon (bravo mate), this film is an antidote to, and also an explanation for, the most exhausting parts of masculinity. I kind of wish I could watch it with men, and even boys, to see if I’m wildly off the mark here, or if this is as accurate as I think. I think this film is really special, and could only be more so if you are a guy who can speak to the experience of these sweet, young, troubled men.