Thoughts on Kokoro

Kokoro was a very different story in terms of styling and the characters in general. I felt like Murakami took a lot from Soseki in his works. What I liked about the story was how frank the author was about the main character's emotions and perspective of change. There were many points in the story where the main character reported feeling a visible change after and interaction. For example, when the main character came back home for the summer and stayed with family, the MC was not very fond of his uncles various mentioning of marriage. When the main character rejected the proposal and hurt his cousin's feelings, the following summer, the character went into detail about how the atmosphere completely changed. This example is one of many that deepened my perspective as a reader. Being able to map when the main character's world perspective was changing and even when the main character did not want his perspective to change was interesting. I also felt like the main character in this story was a little similar to Boku in that (despite the MC's range of emotions differed greatly from Boku) his treatment of others was similar. In a way, the main character in Kokoro had the same disillusionment and normalness I felt in reading Boku. Although, the character in Kokoro was more selfish in many ways. Reading how he handled suddenly proposing and not telling K about any of it had me feeling less and less sympathy. I especially felt less sympathetic when he continued to not tell his wife anything and let his guilt degrade their marriage and cause Ojosan emotional harm. In the end, I felt like dragging Ojosan into his guilt and problems made the selfish act of going behind K's back even less justified. However, despite this, the story was enjoyable because there was a window into the minds of the characters that was different from a lot of Murakami's work.

Ariel

Daze of Heaven

In preparation of the final, I decided to spend this blog post on a first attempt at writing inspired by Murakami's work.

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The wind calmed down. The stalks of wheat, like a painter's brush, no longer playfully stroked my canvas of a face. When my mind finally completed a painting of that red bike, I pedaled into a deep sleep.

I awoke to the call of my name. My eyes opened dazedly. The surrounding wheat hung over me on all sides like trees. A forest of gold sheltered me from the world. A small patch of blue was framed in the center of my view. The blue paired nicely with the remnant memory of that faded red bike so vivid in my dream. I heard my name again, coming from the road near the bottom of the hill I was laying on. Sitting up, my head poked just above the surrounding wheat. It was my best friend, my only friend, standing near my dad’s old bike, which I carelessly dropped to the side of the road before making my way up the hill. His determined eyes, shaded by his left hand, scanned the field stalk by stalk, searching for any sign of me. I put my hand up submissively and waved it side to side like a white flag of surrender. He noticed my efforts halfway through one of his scans, and carefully propped his own bike against the fence separating the road from the field before hopping it and making his way towards me.

Cutting through the wheat with serenity, he floated towards me, his legs hidden in the growth of crop. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming again. He wore his usual green chino pants and an untucked white dress shirt, all on top of his favorite white Nike trainers, the ones with light blue swooshes. He always failed to make it to the top two buttons of his shirt, leaving a small area of his chest’s soft, light skin exposed. His slender neck mirrored the softness of his chest and made his strong jawline more pronounced. His high cheekbones framed the warm hint of a smile he constantly wore nicely. His thick eyebrows expressed all of the emotions his eyes couldn’t. His eyes bore the gleam of his soft smile, no matter how distressed or upset he truly was. His short, messy hair hid away from the world underneath a baseball cap.

“Your dad said you might be out here” he stopped and said, still a few meters away from me. 

I had yet to speak a word all morning, and I wasn’t sure how to respond to his comment, so I kept my unspoken vow of silence. Replying to my silence with a less dedicated imitation, he closed the gap between us and found a seat in the wheat just to my right. “Have you been here long?” he asked, tearing the top half of a wheat stalk off of its stem and placing it between the right side of his lips. “You know, your dad said he hasn’t seen much of you in the past few days.” He spoke out of the left side of his mouth. I nodded slowly, unsure of which of his statements I was answering. He had recently tried to stop smoking cigarettes, and he was unconsciously miming slow drags on the wheat stalk, each with a complementary exhale. He took the stalk from between his lips with his right index and middle fingers, and in a second-nature-habitually-driven manner, he stubbed out the stalk in the dirt to his side, careful to make sure no embers remained lit. Looking at my face, then scanning my clothing up and down, he smirked. “Are you seriously wearing the same clothes I saw you in two days ago?”. I nodded slowly once more, looking down at my unkempt clothing. I hadn’t thought about my clothing in a while, I couldn’t remember when I had put it on in the first place. So, I hadn’t seen him in two days. What happened to yesterday?  

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- Bergen

Murakami’s Use of Doubling in Norwegian Wood

 Doubling is a technique that spans many literary periods and has been employed by some of the greatest authors of all time. Charles Dickens used literary doubling in A Christmas Carol to demonstrate the difference in social standing and life outlook between Scrooge and characters such as Fezziwig and Bob Cratchit, and this difference prompts Scrooge to change his miserly ways. Along the way, it demonstrates to the reader Dickens’ thoughts on wealth disparity issues that plagues England in his days. It is a subtle and effective way to compare and contrast characters and make commentary about issues. 

In Norwegian Wood, there are many examples of doubling. Two of the most powerful comparisons exist between Naoko and Midori and Nagasawa and Toru. For Naoko and Midori, I came to the conclusion that they were opposites in their response to trauma, and through their respective interactions with Toru, Murakami was able to demonstrate the effectiveness of each response. For Nagasawa and Toru, I believe that their doubling shows the reader two alternative responses to finding meaning in a meaningless world. 

Both Naoko and Midori deal with trauma in Norwegian Wood, but the timing and response to the trauma differs drastically. For Naoko, she is given a picture perfect childhood. She has a comfortable home life, loving parents, a perfect sister, and found her soulmate in her childhood. Once she reaches teenage years, things turn for the worse; she finds her sister dead after committing suicide, and her love Kizuki also commits suicide without notice. Midori on the other hand is plagued with death her whole childhood. She loses her mother to brain cancer, loses numerous other relatives, attends a school where she feels out of place, and finally her father gets diagnosed with the same disease that killed her mother. Around the end of the book we see her enter a seemingly good relationship with Toru, she has some financial from the sale of her family bookstore, and it seems that her life makes a turn for the better. This dichotomy of experience, where one character’s life starts out good and turns bad around the time the other character’s hardships turn to good fortune is telling of the response to trauma. Midori grew up with hardships and learned how to persevere through tough times. She has a remarkably quick grieving period after her father’s death, and she doesn’t push any of the trauma onto Toru despite their budding relationship. When Naoko has to deal with her hardships, she doesn't have the necessary coping mechanisms and cannot process what has happened. This leaves her a fragile shell of her former self, and she pushes these issues onto Toru by instigating an odd semi-relationship. When she has a mental break, this leaves Toru confused, worried, and directionless. She doesn’t have the proper coping mechanisms developed, and this leads to her radiating her negativity over Toru and eventually taking her own life. Murakami uses the duality of these two characters' responses to make commentary about trauma response, and point out to the reader that a charmed life doesn't come without its own consequences. 

The doubling of Nagasawa and Toru is extremely interesting, as it seems close to home to Murakami himself. Both characters are intelligent, see the futility of daily actions, and search to fill the void. But it is their juxtaposing methods of which they fill that void that leads the reader to question what is right, and their own response to the same effort. For Nagasawa, he chooses to channel his intelligence and time into obtaining power through public service, and performs extremely well academically. He even uses his free time to study other languages and become widely read. He also is an extreme womanizer, and despite having a steady long term girlfriend pursues one night stands routinely. This also seems to be a pursuit of power in its own twisted way, so Nagasawa's efforts to fill the void constitute his pursuit of maximum power. For Toru, who is also bored, bright, and aimless, the attempt to fill the void is using close relationships. Though he is not a particularly social being, Toru tends to a handful of close meaningful relationships (with Naoko and Midori) with impressive vigilance. Because Nagasawa leaves a wake of burned bridges and damaged people (such as Hatsumi), and Toru actually helps individuals he comes in contact with, the reader gets the sense that Murakami condemns actions similar to Nagasawa's, and applauds Toru’s tactic to filling the void. 

Literary doubling (and tripling) is a subtle technique with big potential, and Murakami employs it masterfully in Norwegian Wood to demonstrate his opinions on a wide range of social issues to the reader. 

- Andrew

Norwegian Wood

The first time I read Norwegian Wood was about six years ago. I picked up the book because I was familiar with the title and read it as quick as I can just to gain some knowledge about it without deep thinking. And this time after the discussions and some close readings, I have had some more profound thoughts.

The first time I read it I never thought it is a love story, because the love presented in the book all seem some sort of “deformed”, as in not the common love we see in reality. And I felt that Murakami was trying to raise something other than the love theme. But this time as I read it, indeed I am feeling that Murakami is attempting to explore notions such as loneliness, the complexity of love etc. but on the other hand, it is no doubt a love story. To me, Naoko’s suicide derives from her possibly perpetual love towards Kizuki that eventually becomes masochistic. However, I do not consider this as mental illness, as I do not think this is something that can be easily healed or healed at all. It is a more complicated emotion that cannot be categorized or defined so arbitrarily, nor does the affection Naoko holds towards Toru, Nagazawa holds towards Hatsumi, and Midori and Toru hold for each other. In such sense, I feel that there may be some common notions that readers can all interpret in the same way, but most things in the book, only certain readers can resonate, but others may not understand at all.

After reading the fragments from Kokoro, I find the degree of complexity of emotions very similar between Naoko and sensei. And sensei has expounded in more details whereas Naoko did not do so, which makes the story more mysterious, more interpretable and richer in meanings.

Overall, I really liked the book in literature sense, not particularly the story. And I have a presentiment that it will get heavier as time passes. 

Alice

Thoughts on the Norwegian Wood Movie

 I actually read Norwegian Wood and watched its movie adaptation in high school, but since it was so long ago, reading and watching it now I feel like I experienced it in a whole different way. I really enjoyed the film adaptation, particularly in the sense that I could better visualize everything--from the characters' clothing and hair styles to their dwellings--since it was set in the late 60s/early 70s and I did not have a clear image of that time in my head while solely reading the book. I also thought that the mise en scene elements and the cinematography was done very well. There were many really beautiful, creative shots shot through, for example, the sparkling beaded 70s-esque curtains or the geometric wooden dividers between rooms in the character's houses. However, despite all of these aspects of the movie, I feel like the plot of the film was kind of lacking or poorly explained at times.

The most prominent aspect of the movie that exemplifies this is Midori's whole plotline. Of course, there is not enough time to include all of the long conversations and many occasions that Toru and Midori meet up throughout the book, but the times that they do hang out and converse in the movie are pretty underwhelming. I feel like if I hadn't read the book and been provided with background information on their relationship, I would have been confused why they were so into each other. One particular scene that that the movie altered that I thought was quite odd was the scene where Midori tells Toru her fantasy of wanting to be on a big fluffy bed and being forced to sleep with Toru. It is already quite a strange conversation to be having, but at least some of it can be blamed on drunkenness as she says this to him while sitting in a bar. In contrast, in the movie, she says this stone cold sober while swimming in what is presumably the university's public pool with Toru. I don't know why they chose to portray this scene this way (perhaps they were trying to connect her character with water, as they changed scene where they watch the building on fire to one where it was just raining outside. Maybe it has something to do with contrasting her with Naoko, who is often shown in the frozen snow?), but I feel like the scenes with Midori are more off-putting than romantic.

The movie also just entirely glosses over the part of the story where Toru takes care of Midori's father, only showing Toru enter the room and look at him rather than talking to and feeding him. I feel like this was a big emotional breakthrough for Midori and Toru as she was so amazed that he got her father to eat and that he indirectly told him he would take care of her. In the movie, since we don't see either of these things happen, the whole scene seems almost pointless, like it was included just so that it could show that he died a week later when Midori calls him. And even when she calls him about her father's death, her bringing up of watching a porn film together seems completely out of the blue as she had not mentioned it in any of their previous conversations in the film.

Furthermore, since the movie chose to exclude the part of the book where Toru moves into his house (in the movie, he just moves into an apartment), it could not explain why Midori was so mad at him for not talking to her during this moving period. So, when she proceeds to tell him she doesn't want to talk to him at school, it seems like the reason is solely that he didn't want to hear out her sexual fantasy in the bar (which in the movie, kind of makes sense since they're sitting at the bar literally a foot away from the bartender). With all of this in mind, by the time they get to the scene where they confess their love and Toru asks her to wait until things are over with Naoko, it really doesn't make any sense why they would go through all this waiting and struggle just to be together.

-Melody

Kojima Discussion Questions

 1. While it is heavily known that Murakami has a lot of respect and admiration for Western authors, specifically American authors, why do you think he switch and would put so much emphasis on French and German literature in Norwegian Wood? Does this shift from American focus to a European focus make you doubt the validity of this proposed claim and think that it's coincidental?

2. The proposed theme in Norwegian Wood is that France is symbolic of death while Germany is symbolic of life, why do you think France and Germany were assigned these roles? Do you think it's based on a historical context, literary context, or something else pertaining to their cultures?

3. If Naoko prefers aspects French culture, why would she have a large interest in The Beatles, an English band? It is true that the song "Michelle" contains French in the lyrics, but "Norwegian Wood," does not, so why would there be more of a focus on "Norwegian Wood" if it doesn't contain French aspects?

4. There are often references to Nazi Germany in Norwegian Wood, Watanabe's roommate is nicknamed "Storm Trooper" and Midori sometimes calls people or actions "fascist", do you think these character traits tie in with the French and German theme?, as stories about "Storm Trooper" always brought people joy and laughs instead of sadness and depression, and Midori is associated with German aspects as she took German and rejected learning French after graduating high school. 

5. Have you reconsidered any plans on whether you'd travel to France or Germany in the near future based on this reading?

-David Barnes

Review of Burning

While the film moved a bit slow at first,  I thought that Burning was a really interesting interpretation of Murakami's short story. The film does not seem as open-ended as Murakami's Barn Burning, but I still have so many questions. Did Ben really kill Hae-mi? Was Hae-mi's cat real or not real? Did Hae-mi actually ever fall into a well? Why did Ben hug Jongsu as Jongsu stabbed him to death? Anyway, I'm sure that will discuss these things in class, so here are my general thoughts on the movie:

I think that the dynamic between Jongsu and Ben (who are both unnamed in Murakami's story) makes much more sense in the movie because of the distinction between their socioeconomic classes. In the short story, Murakami describes Ben as being very wealthy but does not clearly define Jongsu's social status. In Burning, it is made clear that Jongsu is part of the working-class as he drives a beat-up old truck and lives on his family's farm, while Ben, on the other hand, drives a Porsche and lives in a lavish apartment. While Murakami does suggest class commentary when he compares the character of Ben to Gatsby in his short story, the film definitely emphasizes the separation between Jongsu and Ben's status much more than Murakami does. 

One aspect of Murakami's writing which Burning remains very true to is how female characters are depicted. The relationship between Jongsu and Hae-mi is quite one-sided; Jongsu thinks that he understands and connects with Hae-mi on a deeper level than Ben, but he is just as guilty of objectifying her. After they have sex, Jongsu feels as if Hae-mi owes him her affection and then feels betrayed because she chooses to be with Ben. He also calls her whore for dancing topless in front of him and Ben (which feels super uncalled for). Jongsu does go to great lengths to figure out what happened to Hae-mi, but the ending of the film makes it seem like his investigation was more about getting revenge on Ben than finding Hae-mi. Perhaps this is because Jongsu assumes that Ben has killed her, but it still seems odd that he would kill Ben before even getting a confession from him. 

I thought that the most interesting performance in the film was by the actor who played Ben. When I read Murakami's story, I couldn't visualize what this mysterious character would look or act like, but the actor in the film really captured both Ben's outward charm and his unsettling emotional detachment. One scene that comes to mind is when Jongsu, Hae-mi, and Ben are out at dinner and Ben says that he never cries. It doesn't seem like he is trying to look tough or prove something to Jongsu; he is just stating a fact. Hae-mi's passion and intense emotions seem like a novelty to him because he has never felt these things himself. I think that the film does a great job of exhibiting Murakami's idea of a "donut" person through Ben- despite his wealth and status, Ben seems hollow. It is almost as if he is is too likeable and perfect; That is until he brings up the fact that he burns greenhouses. 

Sidenote: I'm not sure why the film changed the subject of arson from barns to greenhouses. Perhaps it is simply because the way the metal skeleton of the greenhouse remains, the image of a greenhouse on fire is more striking?

-Penny

Thoughts on Burning

 In my opinion, Burning was a very well done adaptation of Murakami's short story, Barn Burning. Since Barn Burning was such a short piece, I feel like the movie was able to really expand on this intriguing story while still remaining mostly faithful to the original content. However, since various elements needed to be added to the story to make it long enough to fill a whole two and a half hour movie, there were some noticeable differences in the characters and the plot of Burning.

One way in which Burning differs from Barn Burning is most evident in the very beginning of the movie. Instead of being a married older man who met the main girl at a wedding three years ago, the protagonist--Jong-soo--was around the same age as Hae-mi and grew up in the same little farm town by the North Korean border. However, Jong-soo does not even remember Hae-mi at first when they meet again when she is working at a raffle stand. While I was unsure why this beginning was changed so much at first, by the end of the story I realized it was written like this so that we could see Jong-soo give the watch he won from the raffle to Hae-mi--which would later end up helping him realize that Ben killed her when he saw the watch in Ben's drawer of his victim's bracelets. I thought that this subtle initial placement of the watch in the beginning was a very smart idea and I felt that it tied the story together very smoothly at the end.

Another addition to Burning was Hae-mi's cat. Similar to the watch, the way the story was set up made it seem like Hae-mi asking Jong-soo to feed her cat while she was in Africa would not have much more relevance to the story other than that it was something that brought him closer to her. I remember thinking it was quite odd that the movie did not show the cat when Jong-soo started feeding it and even had him make a comment about not being able to find it since it did not seem significant to the plot. I thought that bringing the cat in at the end after Hae-mi was killed and having Jong-soo only able to speculate whether or not it was hers since he had never seen it was a very effective way to build suspense for the following scene, where he calls Boil's name and it comes to him--the last nail in the coffin that proves Ben is the murderer.

Also, since this is was movie, all of the characters needed to have their own names, including the cat. I feel like this was very un-Murakami-esque since his characters in Barn Burning and many of his other stories do not usually have names, giving them more of a sense of anonymity. The cat having a name especially stuck out to me since there was that one conversation in A Wild Sheep Chase about how Boku did not name his cat.

-Melody

Fire and Rebirth in Burning

 Despite mirroring the majority of the original narrative in Murakami’s “Barn Burning”, the film adaptation of the story, Burning, diverges from Murakami in both its motifs and character development. Interestingly, instead of burning barns (at least, metaphorically), Ben - the wealthy and alluring foil of the protagonist - has a habit of burning greenhouses. Ben’s character closely resembles Fitzgerald’s Gatsby: a seemingly secure and successful young man with a foreign and largely unknown background who later shows signs of moral and psychological erosion in the face of existential anguish. Similarly, the protagonist, Jong-su, is an aspiring writer (just like Nick Caraway) who loses his love interest, Hae-mi, to Ben. Hae-mi looks largely content with her relationship because Ben provides her with both the material comfort she never had access to growing up and the satisfaction of being loved by a sophisticated man. However, when Hae-mi and Ben visit Jong-su’s old house, Hae-mi starts longing for ghosts of the past. She appears to be torn between the nostalgic yet painful memory of her home filled with struggle and the desire to escape into a bright and exciting future. This tension culminates in Hae-mi’s performance of the “Great Hunger” where she strips and begins dancing. In fact, this is the last time Jong-su ever sees Hae-mi. Instead, Ben is now seen with a different woman. We do not find out what happened to Hae-mi or where she is but it is clear that she is no longer there. The trope of nudity as a symbol of rebirth also appears at the end of the movie when Jong-su goes through his cathartic passage and kills Ben while suspecting him of murdering Hae-mi. Regardless of whether that is true, Ben seems strangely relieved before dying: as if the weight of existential dread has been lifted off his shoulders. Jong-su puts Ben’s body in the car, removes his (own) clothes and burns everything down before driving away with the fire exploding behind him. The motif of fire can be taken to represent the pent up rage of a modern person while constantly confronting their helplessness against the rigid system that they are born into. Regardless of their status, gender, artistic ability, all of the characters in Burning battle with alienation and existential anguish. An interesting detail in the film, however, is the well, which does not appear in the original story but is well-explored by Murakami in many of his other works. The well, representing the dark subconscious, traps Hae-mi as a child (according only to her) and causes her great emotional distress. Hae-mi claims that Jong-su helped her find her way out of the well which may suggest that before her disappearance, Hae-mi is once again freed by Jong-su and subsequently goes through a rebirth herself. 

Ruska

Judgement

   Many scenes remind me of Murakami's work in fairly direct ways, but that is one scene in particular that seemed like a deeper homage to Murakami's style. After Ben and Hae-mi pay a visit to Jong-su's home and enjoy a meal with drinks and pot, Hae-mi falls asleep. While Ben and Jong-su talk alone, Ben begins to open up to Jong-su talking about burning greenhouses. To me though, there is more to this dialogue than just a connection to Murakami's short story.

   Just like in Murakami's Barn Burning, where barns are thought of as waiting to be burned, Ben in the movie Burning talks about greenhouses asking him to burn them. In conversation with Jong-su, Ben opens up about why he burns greenhouses and talks about judgment. Comparing the burning of greenhouses to rain falling, something that is inevitable, Ben asks "you think the rain judges anything?"(1:17), following the question by stating that it isn't a matter of what's right or wrong but simply the laws of nature. In many ways, this sequence reminds me of Murakami's work. In A Wild Sheep Chase Boku infrequently judges others or judges situations in terms of what is right or what is wrong. He often submits to the situation around him and allows "nature" to run its course. But in his case, it is more supernatural or mystical than natural. To me, Boku and many of Murakami's protagonists take on the characteristics of rain as described by Ben. Something that just happens to be there, that follows a path, and that has little control and no emotion. As Ben says about greenhouses waiting to be burned in the movie, Boku doesn't "judge anything" he just "accepts it"(1:16). 

   Unlike in Barn Burning, this conversation happens at night. This reminded me of Boku's conversation in the darkness with the Rat. In the darkness personal boundaries seem to be lifted. Darkness in both stories is a strange liminal space where characters engage in ways they wouldn't normally. In A Wild Sheep Chase, the Rat says to Boku "you have to forgive me, but it has to be dark"(327). In a way, I think Burning putting this conversation in a dark setting is more effective than the equivalent in Barn Burning. I associate darkness with disassociation, I think this conversation needs to happen in a disassociated setting. Although both scenes use substances that could also act as disassociates, in my mind substances only affect sensory perception and affects people on an individual level. Darkness though affects the perception of senses, space, and time and can easily engulf multiple people. I think it is important that Ben and Jong-su shared the darkness.

   Many of Murakami's plots remind me of how Ben describes the overflowing rivers after these inevitable judgment-free rainfalls. He says "rain falls. The river overflows, causing a flood that sweeps people away."(1:17) following it with a laugh. In the case of A Wild Sheep Chase, the rain falling is Boku, his divorce, the photo from the rat, and other early chapter events. Once these individual droplets come together, the "river" overflows and it sweeps everyone up with it. The characters caught in Boku's path are dragged with him through the winding river of the plot and slowly free themselves from its flow as things are resolved and the river begins to dry up. I think comparing Murakami's plots to a river also works in that they often don't have a clear beginning or end, they start and finish while still flowing. 

  Overall I enjoyed the movie. There are so many instances that remind me of many of Murakami's works and style, but this scene in particular grabbed my attention and felt very familiar.     

Bergen

Class and Hypermasculinity in Burning

CW: mention of violence, murder

After watching Burning, I can’t help but comment on how the movie reflects the intersections between classism and hypermasculinity, and how displays of harmful masculinity appear to be different depending on one’s socioeconomic status. This can be seen throughout the movie. Hypermasculinity is the term for exaggerated forms of masculinity, virility, and aggression. Ben reflects South Korea’s hegemonic masculinity: wealthy, charming, well-spoken, and handsome. However, less apparent are his more malignant traits: manipulative, narcissistic, and displaying traits of antisocial personality disorder, including deceitfulness, superficial charm and manipulation, a complete lack of empathy or remorse, and a fascination with causing harm to people or property (in this case, setting fires to “greenhouses” and possibly being connected to the disappearance of Hae-mi).

On the other hand, Jong-su is low-income, working multiple jobs, and tending to a farm while his father is incarcerated. He feels the need to prove his masculinity more than Ben; as one of the key elements to hegemonic masculinity is financial success, Jong-su is at a disadvantage and is considered less “masculine” by these standards because he belongs to a lower socioeconomic class. Therefore, Jong-su must use other avenues to prove his masculinity. Such is an example of J. Edward Sumerau’s concept of compensatory masculinity, in which men belonging to one or more subordinate social groups (race, socioeconomic status, non-cisheterosexuality, etc.) signify their masculinity by emphasizing the elements of hegemonic masculinity that they can still embody (Sumerau 2012). In this case, since Jong-su lacks the upper-class sophistication that Ben has, he overrepresents his cisheterosexuality and physical dominance (i.e. intimidation through threat or acts of injury or bodily harm). For example, he is very sexually driven, exemplified in numerous scenes in which Jong-su is having sex with Hae-mi or masturbating to her photos. He also stabs Ben to death in what appears to be a violent fit of rage.

Neither of these men appear to have a genuine stake in Hae-mi’s wellbeing, with Jong-su objectifying her and wanting to possess her, and Ben lacking empathy and possibly having something to do with her disappearance. Both provide harmful displays of masculinity which endanger those around them and attempt to bolster their own status higher than the other. Hegemonic masculinity is the pattern of practice (i.e., things done, not just a set of role expectations or an identity) that has allowed men’s dominance over women to continue (Connell 2005). Jong-su and Ben assert their dominance over Hae-mi in different ways due to their different displays of masculinity: Jong-Su by objectifying Hae-mi and being possessive over her, and Ben by being manipulative and using his money and charm to accomplish his ulterior motives.

Jong-su, the anti-hero of the film, is very expressive of the emotions deemed “acceptable” for mainstream masculinity: anger, jealousy, lust, and possessiveness, driven not by love but by desire to sexually possess Hae-mi, and he ends up killing Ben after his anger explodes. Such traits are overemphasized since he lacks access to the more “passive-aggressive” and manipulative nature of the middle-class cisheterosexual man and therefore must display a louder, more aggressive, more performative version of (toxic) hypermasculinity.

Sources:

• https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0891243205278639
• https://thescratchcinema.com/burning-the-two-sides-of-toxic-masculinity/
• https://www.dapperq.com/2018/04/masculinity-is-not-a-gender-nor-is-toxic-masculinity/
• https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0891243212439748
• https://www.psi.uba.ar/academica/carrerasdegrado/psicologia/sitios_catedras/practicas_profesionales/820_clinica_tr_personalidad_psicosis/material/dsm.pdf
• https://theconversation.com/the-real-problem-with-toxic-masculinity-is-that-it-assumes-there-is-only-one-way-of-being-a-man-110305

- Christa

Burning Comments

Burning (2018) managed to turn a ten-page short story into a two-and-a-half-hour-long movie… and the movie made me appreciate Murakami’s original story more. Perhaps it was because I already knew what to expect after reading the short story, but I found the movie long, slow, and slightly boring. Despite this, I can recognize the aesthetic and visual appeal of the cinematic version. I particularly enjoyed the ending of the movie because it added closure that was not provided in the short story. Murakami intentionally left the ending open without confirmation that the pantomime woman was murdered by her new boyfriend. The mystery of the story is brushed over, and the narrator doesn’t really care too much about it or the woman, except for stating that he thinks about barns burning “now and then.” This lack of reaction and indifference by the narrator was strange to me, and I’m glad that the movie went further with the story and included Jong-Su killing Ben for his cruel deeds and ultimately ending the murder streak.

The depiction of socioeconomic class differences in the movie was also a very interesting addition. Hae-Mi is treated like an oddity by Ben and his wealthy friends, and this is especially evident in the dinner scene where Hae-Mi drunkenly performs a dance for everyone and they all (except for Jong-Su, who remains silent) encourage Hae-Mi to make a fool of herself. Jong-Su notices this strange occurrence, and the camera also emphasizes Ben’s indifferent/uninterested expression in this scene even though he is supposedly Hae-Mi’s lover at the time. This same scene is replicated with the next girl that Ben pursues, and the wealthy group again mockingly/jokingly indulge the girl as she animatedly tells a story that no one else is very interested in. They all treat Ben’s girlfriends as something strange to observe, like an animal or a child. Although Jong-Su is treated quite normally by Ben, the difference between Jong-Su and the girlfriends is significant. 

This socioeconomic difference is also obvious when seeing Hae-Mi and Jong-Su’s possessions compared to Ben’s. Jong-Su’s home at night is pitch dark, while Ben’s house is always well-lit and bright. Hae-Mi’s apartment is a small and tight space that is cluttered with all her belongings, while Ben’s is extremely spacious with luxury decorations. Jong-Su’s truck is large, dirty, and loud, while Ben’s sports car is shiny, sleek, and fast. In the scene where Jong-Su attempts to follow Ben onto the highway, Ben eventually is able to speed away by hitting the gas and weaving seamlessly through the many cars, while Ben is left stuck. This scene left an impression on me, as it seemed to portray the “chase” between Jong-Su and Ben, and suggested that Jong-Su would never be able to catch and expose Ben. The last scene, where Jong-Su both murders Ben and also sets Ben’s car on fire, seemed to represent how Jong-Su has successfully “caught” Ben and brought justice to Hae-Mi. The use of the cars symbolically represented the chase and also the tragic end to Ben as we watch him burn in his car through the rear window of Jong-Su’s truck.

Although I did not love movie as a whole, I think it did an excellent job at bringing the story to life and staying pretty accurate to the original plot. The additions that were made in the movie only enhanced the story, and brought closure where the reader may have been previously left unsatisfied or questioning.

-Michelle

"Burning" thoughts

I personally really enjoyed Burning and think it did a fantastic job capturing the atmosphere of the original short story and Murakami’s writing in general. I was definitely reminded of Murakami during many parts of the movie. For example, the part where Haemi talks about “Little Hunger” and “Great Hunger” reminded me of the abnormal hunger that the narrator felt in “The Second Bakery Attack”. Also, the well story really stuck out to me because Murakami has mentioned that there was a well near his childhood home and that his dream was to sit at the bottom of a well. He has also likened “the other world” in his stories to going down to the bottom of a well.

One of the major ways in which this film feels very Murakami-esque is that in a lot of ways, it includes a subtlety and ambiguity that has the viewer feeling like “Something isn’t quite right, but I’m not sure why…” The mysterious phone calls to Jong-su, Ben carefully applying makeup on his new girlfriend, the well story that may or may not be real all came together to build a strange, ominous atmosphere. Even the shock of Jong-su violently attacking Ben is toned down by how far out the camera is zoomed from the attack. There is no frame dedicated to Ben’s burning car- only a glance at the flames through the truck’s rear window as Jong-su drives by the wreckage to who knows where.

However, I did think that the movie pushed past Murakami’s subtlety in some ways to make things a bit more obvious for the viewers. Jong-su’s additional role as a farmer emphasizes the disparity in wealth between him and Ben. The shot of Jong-su’s dirty old truck next to Ben’s luxurious car when they are leaving the restaurant establishes this difference upon their first meeting. In addition, the movie bypasses Murakami’s preference for leaving names out and gives Ben an english name rather than a Korean one, indicating to the audience that he is different, an outsider in some way. Perhaps the largest example is the way the movie makes it quite clear that Ben killed or got rid of Haemi in some way. The drawer of women’s accessories, the pink watch and cat, and the presence of the new girlfriend all serve to draw Jong-su and the viewer to the conclusion that Ben is a murderer and that “greenhouses” are not actually greenhouses. However, I think it is possible that many readers did not draw this conclusion from Murakami’s short story alone.

For me personally, having the movie take place in Korea did not change the overall story in any major way. This is likely because I didn’t feel like the events taking place in Japan played a crucial role in the original short story. One thing I did take note of was Jong-su’s use of the honorific “hyung” during the one time I can remember him addressing Ben by name. This somewhat surprised me, as I typically hear this title used between (male) friends.

The last thing I wanted to note is: though the movie was based on Murakami’s “Barn Burning”, it also incorporated elements of Faulkner’s “Barn Burning” as well. Jong-su’s father is very similar to Mr. Snopes- a farmer with an explosive temper who receives legal punishment for assault and property damage. In addition, Jong-su’s favorite author is William Faulkner, which prompts Ben to start reading him as well.

Angela Pyo

Burning Movie

 As I was watching the film, I found myself trying to make many comparisons to the story. I thought that the ending to the story was very random and in many ways fell in line with Murakami's post-modernist style of disjointed, unexpected events. In addition, I felt that the movie in itself had a very slow pace leading to the very extreme ending. I found myself wondering what everything meant and what the movie was trying to accomplish focusing on certain aspects of the story. For example, routine is one aspect I thought was strong throughout the movie. There was also more of an emphasis on the characteristics of the women chosen to be killed. The girl was very lost and even seemed suicidal when they were speaking over dinner in one scene. 

Seeing scenes played out in a live-action setting helped change my perspective. For example, when the girl was miming out peeling an orange, the scene seemed less significant than in the story. I do believe it was interesting to see more emotion in the characters like the main character’s scramble and struggle to find the girl and growing paranoia/frustration. 

I was frustrated at the point when the main character was in the bathroom and saw all of the jewelry left behind by victims. He saw this and did nothing and did not seem as concerned as he maybe should have been. Even after ending up in the same bathroom after the girl disappeared, he still did nothing and didn't go to the police to report it. The main character clearly was not concerned with justice towards the end of murder, but I was confused about that one part of the movie.

Ariel

Burning Movie: Thoughts

    After watching the movie Burning, I believe that it is very well-produced and that it is a further expansion on Murakami's Barn Burning. The first thing I noticed while watching the film is the setting. It is a very dark and gloomy setting which held consistent throughout the film, and I think it is an effective way of visualizing the dark and serious plot line. While reading Barn Burning, I did not get this kind of visual since the language was not descriptive enough to provide effective imagery. The second thing I noticed was that the protagonist, Jong-su, is a very quiet character and is strikingly ordinary. This is consistent with many of the protagonists in Murakami's works as well. 

    In my opinion, the most noticeable aspect that both the story and the movie share is Jong-su's constant uncertainty between what is real and what is imaginary. Primarily, his uncertainty is over whether or not Hae-mi had abandoned her life and her involvement with the two men, or that she was in fact killed by Ben. The Burning film leaves many more clues that suggest Ben did in fact murder Hae-mi when compared to the Barn Burning reading. Suggestive clues throughout the film include Ben's claims of burning greenhouses, his occasional drives out to the countryside, and that he has Hae-mi's cat after her disappearance. However, there were also many other reasons that she may have disappeared. She lacks a support system from her family that she is alienated from due to debt she has accumulated. On top of that, the one person that she claimed she could lean on and trust (Jong-su) called her a whore. There is also a large mirror in her room, which could be somehow connected to her disappearance as if she entered another reality on the other side. This is also a possible way of explaining disappearances of characters in other Murakami stories. It could be possible that Hae-mi did commit suicide in spite of the circumstances that were against her, however it is left up to the viewers interpretation by the end of the film. In last scene of the film when Jong-su murders Ben, it seems that it is done too easily for Ben to be a true murderer. I would think that if Ben did murder Hae-mi, he would be suspicious that Jong-su knew about it and would potentially retaliate. However, during the final scene, Ben seemed to be very trusting of Jong-su and did not suspect that he would harm him, much less murder him.

I think that the setting of the movie taking place in Korea added an interesting element; a socioeconomic difference between the two main characters, Jong-su and Ben. Jong-su representing the impoverished and Ben representing the upper class. The link between these two men being Hae-mi. Korea provides a location that has both poor and rich communities living in close proximity of one another. With the main characters being from either end of the socioeconomic class, it adds an element of tension between them. I initially found this movie to be too slow to maintain my interest, however as the plot progressed, I was very curious as to what happened to Hae-mi and if she was indeed murdered by Ben.

 

Boston

Burning Barns/ Greenhouses/ Cigarettes/ People

        The things that stood out most to me when watching the film were the additions to the narrative made in adaptation. I felt Chang-Dong Lee stayed rather faithful to the original plot beats while adding his own, some of which added layers to the plot and others that would occasionally strike me as odd.

        The aspect of the new plot which stuck out most to me was Jong-su's relationship with his father, as whenever it cut back to that I was left puzzled at its inclusion. From my understanding, Jong-su's father had a lot in common with the famously obstinate and oddly violent father that could be found in the William Faulkner story "Barn Burning". The movie further cemented that thought in the various moments in which it went out of its way to mention Faulkner's writing. I believe this change was made so as to flesh out the restlessness that is presented by the protagonist of both the Murakami short story and film. Both forms of the story gesture at the human desire for destruction, with both protagonists being taken in by the vision of the wealthy stranger's habit for burning down small buildings. The director offered a glimpse into the desire and anger behind the quiet man and then took that desire for destruction and the mystery at the heart of the plot to its inevitable end by having Jong-su murder Ben.

    During the downtime of the movie, which it had a lot of, I often wondered about why the director changed the plot from burning down barns to burning down greenhouses, as greenhouses are far less innocuous than an old shed that no one uses. One way of looking at it is thinking of greenhouses as inarguably good and helpful, since they make food and flowers, and thus the desire to destroy one is the desire for destruction of the good in the world, rather than just the unremarkable. It also could just be argued that greenhouses are more common in Korea, I simply don't know.

     A change that the film made was that the character Ben was often shown amongst high society, whether it be his house or among his friends in a bar, which implies his possible destructive tendencies are not only accepted by the rich in Korea, but that he is not the only one with such inclinations. If so, the problems presented in the story are not personal, but rather indicative of a societal imbalance of power. Whether it is cigarettes, clothes, buildings or people, the characters in this film have a burning desire within them placed there by the unjust society in which they live.

  Side thoughts: 

• I think it's a bad sign when you go into a movie based on a ten page story and see that it is two and a half hours long, but I also am not an internationally acclaimed Korean director, so what do I know.
• They managed to add an awkward sex scene to one of the few Murakami stories without an awkward sex scene. The man would be proud.

 -Luke Ptak

Burning (2018) Review

 Burning (2018) I feel is a very good adaptation to the Murakami story and faithful to the themes that it had. The main idea that I thought it conveyed well is the questioning of what is reality and what is being thought of in the protagonist's head. It left it open ended as to whether Ben was really a serial killer or Jong-su was just being paranoid about Ben, whether Hae-mi had abandoned her life or was killed, whether the events at the end really happened or not. And these aspects I think connect to a common Murakami theme of what is being told is not actual reality and the questioning of what is and isn't, like the Rat visiting Boku even though he's already dead in A Wild Sheep Chase.

In the original Barn Burning story, I think the idea that the boyfriend being a serial killer was a bit more subtle than Burning, with Burning leaving suggestive clues like the drawer of accessories of different people, Ben having Hae-mi's cat with the cat responding to being called Boil, his strange trips to the countryside. These clues didn't really exist in Barn Burning, but I don't think that's a bad thing, as it brings in more the question on whether Ben was a serial killer or not, it helped with the suspense. Of course non of these are conclusive reasonings, so it makes the audience question that what is being suggested is the real case or not, which I think is a common theme or Murakami. 

This sense of questioning what is being presented is also the case with Hae-mi and whether or not she was killed or abandoned her life. There's evidence of her not liking her current like with contemplating what I'd be like if she disappeared when she got back from Africa, she had a lot of debt to pay off, which kept her family from helping her, and the straw that might've broke the camel's back was Jong-su calling her a whore, making her feel completely unwanted. It also makes it hard for her to feel genuine with the falling in the well story, as no else says happened or that there was even a well in the first place, with the only person agreeing with her being Jong-su's mom but she doesn't even seem one hundred percent about it. This also goes with Murakami theme of remembering things, characters remembering things that seem a bit outlandish or differently from others, and this theme is used well in the movie as it adds an element as to whether Hae-mi is being genuine with her character or just a pathological liar and has gotten herself too deep in a mess. So this also adds to the questioning of what the audience is being told and what is and isn't true.

The events at the end can even be called in question on whether they really happened or not, with it being connected to Jong-su's book. Near the end we see him writing in Hae-mi's old room and then it eventually transitions to the murder of Ben, it brings in the idea of what if what's being portrayed is really just Jong-su's story that he's envisioning. It could explain why the murder scene was a bit strange, Ben gave no resistance to being killed, even though he's well fit enough and potentially knowledgeable about murders, so just letting Jong-su kill him without any fight back makes it seem too easy and simple, lending to the idea that it was just what Jong-su envisioned what would've happened, even though it's not that realistic. Which again adds to the questioning of the reality of the film.

The Korean setting I think worked in the movie's favor, instead of barns it was greenhouses the boyfriend wanted to burn, which makes sense as Korea had a boom of greenhouses during it's White Revolution of agriculture. It also incorporates the theme of rich and poor more than the original story, with Ben being very rich and entrepreneur and Jong-su is a farm boy. I'm aware this social contrast is very popular in Korean films, and I think it adds more to the contrast between Ben and Jong-su.

Overall I think that Burning is a great adaptation of the Murakami story, incorporating common themes that Murakami uses so that it could even be an easy introduction to explore him as a writer more.

-David Barnes

Thoughts on Burning

Overall I think Burning successfully captures the surreal, ambiguous, and somewhat melancholic atmosphere of Murakami's Barn Burning. The biggest difference I noticed is that Murakami's writing has more room for interpretation, whereas the movie is more explicit about what messages it wants the viewers to get. Perhaps to make the story plot richer, the film gives its main character backstories and also offers social commentary on some prominent issues in Korean society.

In Barn Burning, when the narrator sees his female friend off at the airport, he says that "[by] the look of her...you'd almost think she was returning from North Africa," which vaguely suggests that North Africa symbolizes something of her past and she is more closely tied with distant North Africa than with modern-day Japan. In Burning, Hae-mi tells the story about "little hunger" and "great hunger" when she says that she's going to Africa, and does the Bushmen dance naked at sunset. Later Ben also explains to Jong-su that Haemi is "lonelier than she seems." Through these added lines and actions, the film is making it very clear that Haemi has been searching for the meaning of life and is spiritually connected with the world Africa represents even when she is physically in Korea. The film also provides more direct evidence suggesting that Ben has murdered Hae-mi like an unwanted greenhouse, whereas Murakami's story is more open-ended.

The characters in the film have more personality than they do in Murakami's story. Boku usually narrates the story quite objectively and rarely talks about his emotions, but Jong-su in the film clearly has emotions and doesn't hesitate to express them, such as when he tells Ben he's in love with Hae-mi, when he masturbates at Hae-mi's place, and when he murders Ben in the end. Jong-su does not feel like Murakami's typical "Boku," but the film's portrayal sure makes him a more interesting character. In addition, the film gives the "antagonist" a somewhat logical motivation behind his greenhouse-burning and human-hunting activities: his material needs are all easily satisfied so he needs the thrill of dominating and destroying unneeded objects (and human beings) to confirm his existence, which isn't really made clear in Barn Burning.

Besides the obvious similarities in plot, there are a few other commonalities between the film and Murakami's short stories. Murakami's characters mention real brand names a lot in his stories, and they also often talk about national or international news that the readers will be aware of to suggest that the magical stories take place in this very real world. Similarly, the film includes a speech of Donald Trump and has the characters eat at an ordinary restaurant with Korean writings all over the wall to situate itself in the realistic modern society. Like the characters Murakami's stories, the characters in Burning also reference specific western literature, such as The Great Gatsby and the writings of Faulkner. A lot of Murakami's stories blur the line between reality and illusion, and the film also does that by adding a cat and a well that both have and have not existed.

In addition to reflecting the story and themes of Barn Burning, the film also discusses a few social issues more specific to Korea. For example, the fact that Hae-mi becomes unrecognizable to her childhood friend because she has done plastic surgery touches upon the issue of Koreans' high standard for female beauty and Korean women's obsession with plastic surgery. Jong-su's unsuccessful job interview where all candidates are referred to by numbers and judged based on where they live offers a glimpse of the dehumanizing side of Korean capitalism. The stark contrast between Ben and Jong-su's professions and living conditions demonstrates the huge wealth gap in Korea, and Hae-mi's friend's complaint that "there's no country for women" also comments on the gender struggles in modern Korean society.

Crystal

Burning Movie Review

While I really liked the movie Burning, I am not sure that it completely captured the feeling I had while reading Murakami's story. The main discrepancy, in my opinion, is the difference of the main character Jong-Su in Burning to the main character in "Barn Burning" who in the short story is married, 11 years older than the girl, and without really any backstory. Meanwhile, in Burning Jong-su is a troubled young creative writing student whose father is going in and out of jail and has very little money. This creates a different atmosphere because I honestly became much more interested in Jong-Su than the whole situation with Hae-mi and her disappearance, compared to when reading the short-story and I was interested in the detective aspect. This could also be because in class we had already discussed that the boyfriend had killed the girl in the short story, so I already knew what was going to happen.

There were however a lot of other interesting points of the movie with different Murakami references/themes. I don't know if it is reading too much into it, but I thought that when Hae-mi and Ben arrive from their trip and meet Jong-su at the airport, and she is craving a specific stew, this reminds me of Murakami's interest in food and how it interacts with everyday life.  Additionally, when Jong-su goes to Ben's apartment for the first time, Ben is cooking pasta and I noticed on the counter-top there was spaghetti, which is reminiscent of a Murakami theme. The directors could have just randomly added this detail but I am curious if they were inspired by Murakami's other short stories when they included this. Also, the Faulkner novel is mentioned many times in the movie, which is where the title of "Burning Barns" comes from, and it is also mentioned in the short story when the main character reads it while waiting for the girl at the airpot. And Ben is having trouble naming the cat, which could be another Murakami theme of having a particular relationship with names, but also it could just be because the cat was originally named Boil and named by Hae-mi. 

I think the fact that the movie was set in Korea changed the mood slightly, although I do not know enough about Japanese or Korean culture to truly tell if there were any big differences. The movie seems to be more specifically touch on class structures in Korea, and the differences between Ben and his glamorous lifestyle compared to Jong-su's life, but I can imagine that there might be similar class differences in Japan. I wonder if there is a reason that they called the barns greenhouses in the movies, and if it is because greenhouses are more common in Korea than Japan, or if it was just a stylistic choice from the director.

Overall, I thought it was a really engaging and fascinating movie that did not have as much to do with the specific story "Barn Burning" as I might have thought, but overall included many aspects of Murakami's themes in his writing that are clear when looking at some of the smaller details in the film.

-Audrey Hager

Burning (2018) Review

Burning (2018), dir. Lee Chang-Dong, was an interesting visual adaptation of Haruki Murakami's short story, Barn Burning. The film follows most of the main plot points from Murakami's story: the main protagonist in the film, Lee Jong-Su, meets Shin Hae-mi, a quirky and unusual girl who is learning pantomime before going to Africa where she meets Ben, a slightly ominous and mysterious man who creates tension between Hae-mi and Jong-su. The film diverges from the novel plot-wise in several small details, from the story taking place in Korea rather than Japan, and Ben burning greenhouses instead of barns. However, these minor differences don't seem to affect the story in a meaningful way and it retains most of the same narrative structure as Murakami's story.

Unfortunately, where the film became incredibly lackluster to me, was its inability to convey the main protagonist's thoughts. In Barn Burning and most of Haruki Murakami's other pieces of writing, the narrator's meandering and sometimes seemingly pointless inner world gives his novels and short stories a specific kind of flair that seems quintessential to his style. Due to the limitations of a film format, Jong-su's thoughts and feelings are rarely voiced and instead implied through his interactions with others or other physical signs. In my opinion, this makes him seem even drier than Murakami's narrators can seem compared to the fantastical side characters they interact with. 

Another major issue with the film that I could not ignore was the obvious subtext. One of my favorite parts of Barn Burning was the completely ambiguous story details. At the end, the reader has no idea if the man from Africa really burned down a barn. We ask ourselves: did he possibly murder the woman? Did he really burn down a barn that Boku missed? Maybe he was just lying about all of it? We don't even find out what Boku does about the missing girl. The film, however, aggressively lays on the hints about Ben murdering Hae-mi. Perhaps this is just because of my prior assumption that the man in the short story murders the woman, but it felt terribly obvious in the film almost from Ben's original introduction. The scene where Jong-su confirms that Ben's new cat is Boil felt like being hit on the head with what the film had been shouting at me the entire time. 

Overall, Burning was an interesting film, but either due to it's painfully blatant "twist" or my prior reading of the source material, I found it extremely predictable and felt as though it almost treated its audience as clueless and needing of very transparent cues.

- May Painter

Burning

     The movie Burning used film to bring a lot of Murakami to life. The characters and their relationships are very similar to "Barn Burning"; the protagonist has a special relationship with the woman, she goes to Africa and brings back a new guy who she seems detached from yet he's always there. The new guy is wealthy, friendly, and suave enough to serve as a foil to the main character. Though the protagonist in Murakami's story is married, I think the creators of the movie adaptation made the protagonist single in order to spark sexual tension; the jealousy can more easily cut both ways. The filmmakers made the protagonist more of a "character," as he has problems with his father and he's poor. However, in the context of the movie, this makes sense.

    The atmosphere of the movie is extremely tense and warped with suspicion. As opposed to the story, which doesn't flesh out the main character's suspicions and doesn't drop hints, the movie has Jong-Su follow Ben and discover things like his drawer of trophies and the cat he definitely stole. I felt like the atmosphere of the story was lighter, but the tension caused by jealousy was still there: the protagonist questions her with "'We?'" when she says she's dropping by with her friend. Because they have sex in the movie, the jealousy has more layers to it, and because the exact nature of their relationship is never revealed, the protagonist, along with the audience, is left with a distrust for Hae-mi. So while some aspects of the tone are the same, I think the movie heightens the tension with the intention of breaking it with a knife.

    Murakami, of course, comes through because this was originally his story. But the filmmakers did an amazing job capture Murakami's sense of mystery and ambiguity. Rarely does Murakami explicate an ending like we saw in the movie, but before the ending, the entire film was shrouded in a mystery that remained unsolved, save some clues hidden in the dialogue. What especially helped the movie play was the actors' inflections, particularly Ben. There was more insinuation behind his words: by laughing at the concept of burning greenhouses, the audience can more easily infer that he's not really talking about burning greenhouses. However, he commits to that while simultaneously not fully uncovering the truth, just like in Murakami's story. As with any good writer, they often find creative and innovative ways to paint a picture, set up a scene, or describe a character's motivations. Murakami does this through inner monologues, taking us through exactly what a character is thinking. While the movie can't do this, the actor's intentions are made more obvious by filming from his point of view and showing his determination through running and visiting her house. The end result, however, is the same: we understand our character better. 

    Moving it to Korea made little difference, in my opinion. What's integral to the story isn't the location, but what the characters' relationships are. Suspicion and jealousy are suspicion and jealousy, no matter the culture. What's funny is that they bash on Chinese and American culture, much like the Japanese do. Overall, I quite enjoyed the movie: it's moreso a thriller than "Barn Burning", but it has a lot of the same themes. The ending, I think, is what really sets it apart from the story. Rather than leave the audience wondering, our protagonist takes action. This action is set up by his proclamation of love and their sexual history, so plot-wise, it checks out. It's a lot more cinematic than the ending to Murakami's story, so maybe this is the satisfying conclusion to both stories: the murderer gets what's coming. 

James

Thoughts on Burning

Do I feel the movie Burning captures the atmosphere of Murakami's Barn Burning? Yes and no. Burning faithfully incarnates many Murakami icons, that is for sure. His magical realism, for one. How could Boil hide away from Jong-su for 15 days (I believe that is how long Hae-mi has been away)? And how come Boil does not hide (though remains shy) from people in Ben's condo? Hae-mi also exhibits much of the Murakami magical realism. She performs pantomime, peels imaginary clementines, and goes to Africa, just as the girl in Barn Burning does. Hae-mi's Bushmen dance, though sensual and does not appear in Barn Burning, has a surreal touch (partially thanks to the environment, the lighting, the music, etc.), yet remains worldly, situated in Jong-su's yard. Most important of all, the movie does not give the story away and leaves room for our imagination. Why is there a scene of Jong-su typing in Hae-mi's room? How does he get in there, since the password has been changed? Might the whole story just be the story he is writing? 

Parts of the plots, however, are not as Murakami as the ones above. The conflict between Jong-su and Ben builds up quickly as the movie progresses. In Barn Burning, I sense very little tension, if any, between Jong-su and Ben's counterparts. In fact, I doubt if Boku has figured out that the girl is dead--and that brings us to the different approach Burning takes. The movie does leave room for the audience's imagination, but it is not quite as vague as Murakami does in Barn Burning. The movie has a coherent storyline and only weaves in snippets that make the audience think. For example, was there a well around Hae-mi's residence or not? Did she actually fall into a well and was rescued by Jong-su, or is her description merely a trope, and perhaps really refers to how she and Jong-su developed their bond amid her difficult circumstances? While Murakami also uses wells and glimpses of light in his writing, Burning does not base its narrative around those symbols, but rather employs them as decorations. 

The Korean adaptations, on the other hand, set the movie apart from the sheer Murakami style, and perhaps add to the depth of the movie. Many of the Korean elements provoke thoughts on current social phenomena and issues in South Korea. For example, at the beginning of the movie, Hae-mi disclosed to Jong-su that she has undergone plastic surgery, which is perhaps why Jong-su does not recognize her immediately. Plastic surgery is a significant phenomenon and, arguably, a symbol of Korean modernity. Professor Elliot informed me that there are over 600 plastic surgeries in Seoul along, a staggering number indeed. What the audience makes of it differs by individual, but certainly, the movie catches our attention on the subject. In addition, during the gathering at Ben's residence, a female friend of Ben expresses her interest in dating a Chinese man, because she has heard that Chinese men tend to treat their partner well. While some Chinese guys respect women and others don't, this scene captures South Korea's gender issue, and implies its severity--we have only seen Ben's circle twice, and the director decides that a topic of Chinese man respecting women is suitable for one out of the two scenes. Perhaps he considers such a topic to be representative of what rich people in South Korea would talk about at a party. 

In summary, Burning is a good South Korean movie that pays much homage to Murakami but also carries significant South Korean characteristics. I like the movie for its aesthetic presentation and both the Murakami and South Korean symbolisms. 

Marshal

Thoughts on Burning Movie

 Burning was overall a very good movie in my opinion. This was the second Korean film I have watched, with the first being Parasite directed by Bong Joon-ho. One of the similarities between these movies that struck me was the lack of dialogue and background music for comparatively large swaths of the movie (when compared to Hollywood Films). I appreciate this style, as I think the imagery provided through the carefully cultivated shots can be extremely descriptive, at times exceeding dialogue in conveying the feelings of the moment. A prime example of this in Burning was the sex scene between Jong and Shin. In western films, sex scenes are often accompanied by background music or dialogue. In the absence of these, the sounds of labored breathing, bed creaks, and other natural noises are removed from the audio. But in the sex scene in Burning, the relative awkwardness of the encounter is perfectly conveyed through a lack of dialogue and songs, and the retention of these natural noises to accompany the imagery.  

I think the application of this style makes for distinct and entertaining movies. But more than that, I think the lack of dialogue in Burning helped to convey a similar feel as the short by Murakami, Barn Burning, that it was based on. For starters, Barn Burning is a short story, and the movie creates additional storylines to explore to fill its over 2-hour timeframe. Yet, one thing that stood out to me was the consistency of the portions of the movie that were copied directly from Barn Burning. In order to accommodate Murakami’s less-is-more style of storytelling, the dialogue in these scenes was not vamped to include unnecessary discussion. They employed the use of non-dialogue storytelling, and were able to tell the story in a way that evoked the feeling of the short story. I thought this was marvelous, and since we had read the short story just a class before I watched the movie I was able to really appreciate the similarities. 

Another interesting thing I noticed were the consistency in keeping with Murakami themes that supersede just Barn Burning. One element I noticed was the multiple references to wells, which are a recurring theme in Murukami's work. Additionally, both times Ben cooks he cooks Italian pasta, which evoked a reference to The year of Spaghetti which we read in class. I thought the theme of loneliness from that The Year of Spaghetti tied in quite well to Ben’s circumstances, and this seemed almost like an Easter egg for Murakami fans.  

A final consistency that I felt was preserved in the movie was Murakami’s method of only providing insight into the life of the main character of the story. Even though we get introduced to characters such as Ben, Shin, Ben’s friends, Jong’s father and Jong’s mother, we learn very little about these characters outside of their interaction with Jong. These characters only serve to augment Jong’s existence, just like the characters in A Wild Sheep Chase do for Boku. 

Overall, I was impressed by the movie's ability to retain many of the themes, and the overall feel, of Murakami’s work. I can't help but feel that if this film was made in the US that would not have been the case, which would have been a shame.

- Andrew 

Burning Review

    I liked the movie. I felt like it captured the atmosphere of the short story pretty well. In part, that may have been due to the background audio and the actors who I felt did a great job with the characters such as Ben and the girl. The main thing that I liked about the movie is how they went beyond the ending of the original story. I liked the idea that the protagonist would finally make the connection that the barn burning was not actual barns but people. And would set out of their way to find out the truth of why the girl disappeared. And even though it had a conclusion in which the protagonist killed Ben and burned his body with the car. The ending still felt open-ended and up to interpretation. 

    I don't think shifting the setting of the movie to Korea changed it all that much. I think that there was some cultural changes to the story when they changed the setting but considering that it was already changed in many different parts when you don't include the setting of the story. As movie establishes that both characters knew each other before the events of the story, while in the short story they met an acquaintance wedding. Which brings up another point as the story establishes the protagonist is married to another woman but in the movie he is single and in love with the girl who would eventually bring back Ben. And there was a big age difference between the two characters.

    There was a couple of reference I noticed to Murakami. One was when the protagonist mentioned Faulkner to Ben. Another one that I think may be a reference, albeit brief, happens towards the end of the movie. The protagonist was in Ben's bathroom looking at himself in the mirror. I don't know if it was all of the tension leading up that scene in which we knew Ben was the killer and the protagonist started piecing things together but his reflection seemed a little off.

Michael

B

Was interesting, liked it. Characters and dialogue felt very strange, methinks sign of a job well done on the part of the actors and staff given source material of Murakami origin. Film's additions to the narrative too seemed pretty Murakami; led to believe Ben was responsible, never told for sure though. Atmosphere went from intro of A Wild Sheep Chase to house in Hokkaido to Wade mansion pretty quick, loved the way it was executed. Also, turned out cat was real all along, absolutely loved the way they chose to reveal that. 

Already mentioned below by another, but felt a lot like Parasite. S. Korea seems to have a thing for class-related narratives, particularly those ending violently in something of a pyrrhic victory. Will have to pay more attention to Korean cinema going forward.

Don't know that the setting shift from Tokyo to Seoul made a big difference in my eyes. Narrative in general seems pretty portable, could very easily've been set in NYC or Boston or Chicago or LA or London or Paris or Shanghai or Hong Kong, or any number of other world cities currently feeling the social bite of capitalism.

"Not a film critic but I liked it"/1

Burning Review

     Overall, I thought Burning was a great movie. I think the movie captures the atmosphere of the story well. It keeps important elements of the story's plotline, and I also noticed some common Murakami themes and tropes that aid in maintaining the style that Murakami writes in. In Burning, Hae-mi practices her pantomiming at the bar, pretending to peel oranges, and even says something similar to the line in the story, "It's not a question of making yourself believe there is an orange there, you have to forget there isn't one" (134). Also in the movie, Hae-Mi asks the protagonist to pick her up at the airport where he meets Ben. They eventually end up at Jong-Su's place smoking marijuana, and that's when Ben tells Jong-Su about his burning habits. Thus, by following the plotline of the story fairly well, the producers managed to match the atmosphere of the story.

    However, I think they most effectively captured the atmosphere of the story, and of Murakami's writing, by adding some details in the movie that seem eerily similar to some of Murakami's other novels and stories. First of all, Hae-mi asks Jong-su to watch her cat while she is gone, which reminded me of the scene in A Wild Sheep Chase in which Boku makes a big deal to ensure that his cat would be taken care of properly while he was on his trip. I then noticed another parallel from A Wild Sheep Chase. In the movie, Jong-su returns to his childhood house all alone where he takes care of cows for his father. The house is in a rural area that seems to be mostly secluded. In A Wild Sheep Chase, the Rat returns alone to the old summer house he used to go to as a kid, which is almost completely isolated. There, his dad took care of a bunch of sheep in the countryside. Also in the movie, there is a scene where Jong-su is smoking cigarettes with Hae-Mi's coworker. Smoking cigarettes seems to be a common occurrence in Murakami's stories.

    The main thing I noticed in this movie, though, was the importance of the well. This may be a stretch, but I think the well could be interpreted as a reference to the "other world". It's made clear in the movie that Hae-mi acts differently than most people and has a unique personality that seems to be out of touch with everyone else's. I thought it was interesting that she mentioned falling into the well when she was seven, and being stuck down there for hours, and how Jong-su saved her but he didn't even remember it. Then, when Jong-su asked Hai-Mi's family and another man that lives near the property, they said there was never a well there at all. The only person that remembered the well was Jong-su's mom, but she didn't remember Hae-mi falling into it either. I think maybe Hae-mi fell into the well and was somehow transported to the "other world", like how Miu was transported via the Ferris wheel in "Sputnik Sweetheart". I just thought this was interesting to think about, and it made the movie much more enjoyable for me.

Corrina