|
 Raucous,
charming and terribly entertaining, Twenty is a breezy glimpse at the
lives of three school friends who literally stand at the crossroads of
maturity. The onset of adulthood and all the intricacies of grown-up
love is greeted by each of the guys in very different ways. There is
Kyeong-jae, who enters college as expected and is fine to wander about
academically, until his desire to get closer to a sharp young coed lures
him into the business world by osmosis. There is the talented artist,
Dong-woo, who single-mindedly pursues his dream of becoming a
cartoonist, despite pressure to leave his studies to support his poor
family. The third of the trio, Chi-ho is a born waster who’s let his
libido do all the thinking for him since high school. He’s not remotely
bothered about his complete lack of direction, as long as his parents
don’t cut off his allowance; a threat even his full-on,
pounding-the-floor tantrums can’t derail.
Much
of the fuel in Twenty’s engine comes from the earnest likability of its
three leads. Korea’s It-boy, Kim Woo-bin, makes a ridiculously charming
jerk. His Chi-ho wishes he was as cool as his vigorously cultivated
image as a player would have it. His rakishness and good looks seem to
have their effect, as at least one young lady puts up with his nonsense,
only to be cast aside as an afterthought. It is only when he literally
runs into a girl who can’t seem to care less, that he more than meets
his match. Kim runs the gamut from sleazily languid to perkily,
disturbingly cute in a heartbeat. This is the second thing I’ve seen
him in after the crime drama, Friend: The Great Legacy, and I’m again
impressed. He makes good use of his tall, lanky, chopstick-like
physique, and his face, with its impish, permanently-raised eyebrows (not
as much in evidence here), expresses more than what appears on its
handsome surface.
Kang
Ha-neul, another dashingly pretty thing, plays it smaller as the angsty,
nervous Kyeong-jae, who doesn’t have much of an identity until the
arrival his advanced new crush. Kyeong-jae’s such an introvert that he
nearly perishes in mortification at being caught in the throes of
“self-discovery” by his wiseacre younger sister. It isn’t much of a
shock that he pulls a complete Jekyll and Hyde after a few glasses of
soju.
From
the huge KPop group, 2PM, idol Lee Jun-ho plays the determined Dong-woo
with both grave focus and easygoing resignation. Having lost their
family fortune, his father has booked it out of town, leaving Dong-woo
to become the head of the household, which poses a constant threat to
his dream of becoming a successfully trained cartoonist. His frail
mother was once a great beauty who never had to lift a finger in her
life and cannot adapt to being the family’s main provider. The pressure
mounts on Dong-woo to leave school and go to work, and he does all he
can to shut out the inevitable. This doesn’t leave him much of a life
of his own as he struggles through college courses and a part-time job.
Both Dong-woo and Kyeong-jae live vicariously through Chi-ho, who has no
responsibilities and all the sexual adventures the pair dream of thrown
in his lap (though he tries unsuccessfully to share the wealth… after
a fashion). There is a clear adoration and brotherhood between the
trio and I could have gone on watching their laddish philosophies and
misguided theories about women for hours.
To my
shock and surprise, it felt like I’d just seen a Korean version of the
old 1980s teen sex comedies, like Porky’s, Private Resort, or Losin’ It;
or as close to it as the filmmakers would get. This realisation felt
strange as I watched the three leads cavort onscreen led about by their
hormones. Then I realised this was a South Korean film poised towards a
far more conservative audience of teenagers, who could not bear to see
their idols be truly naughty … at least sexually. Their men’s careers
could be seriously imperiled. Twenty gets as risqué as it dares with
its three idol leads. Chi-ho’s love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude is
handled with a light touch that brings only the slightest tap on the
wrist for his bad behaviour. We’re never shown what exactly it is on
Kyeong-jae’s computer that has him so excited, but the ribbing and blunt
commentary from his bratty sis (Played by the excellent Lee Yoo-bi,
who completely stole the hit K-Drama, Pinocchio) give us a clue.
Even the matter of Chi-ho’s ladylove’s escort duties is handled with the
softest of kid gloves.
Still,
the frankness of Chi-ho’s ambitious amour and her willingness to sleep
her way to the top, regardless of his unexpectedly true feelings for
her, is pretty surprising. Same for Kyeong-jae‘s progressive and
forthright coed crush. It is a bit concerning that these sexually
direct ladies are cast in negative lights, but sadly not surprising.
Chi-ho‘s much spoken of, but unseen tomcat behaviour and complete lack
of contribution to society other than being decorative is comedy, but
for those young women to control their sexuality while setting
themselves up for success in the working world makes them pariahs, who,
in one case, must leave the country. Not the focus of the film, but
it’s hard not to see it.
Nope,
let’s put that to the side. We come to laugh and laugh we do, with
moments like the three guys’ existential discourses and their
interactions with the older, more jaded citizens of life. Chi-ho’s
sudden employment as manager to his new actress girlfriend sparks the
one and only thought to the future he’s ever had, when he decides he
wants to make movies. His request for guidance and advice from the
director on the girl’s set starts a hilarious dissertation of the older
man’s regrets and lost hopes and all the reasons why Chi-ho should never
become a director (mostly, it seems, because he’d actually be
expected to direct a film). Hyeong-jae on alcohol is every sort of
party monster; whether protesting loudly against social injustice,
projectile vomiting (captured on video for the world to see), or
delivering the darkest, most rage-filled, scream-metal version of
4Minute’s fluffy pop hit, What’s Your Name? in the history of noraebang.
However, of all these excellent moments of mirth, the one that is worth
the price of admission is the fight in the trio’s favourite Chinese food
restaurant. The boys decide to stand up for the little guy against a
gang of thugs shaking the owners down and discover that good intentions
can’t replace a good left hook. With helpful narration to let us
understand what should be happening - but doesn’t - we witness what is
probably the most realistic fight ever filmed. Flailing arms, epically
mislanded blows, poorly conceived strategies and abortive escape
attempts after blatant shows of cowardice fill the screen in slow
motion, so we don’t miss a glorious moment. If the whole movie had been
that scene for an hour and a half, I’d queue up to see it over and over
again. It’s pure slapstick comedy gold.
Unsurprisingly, Twenty is a box office hit in its native South Korea,
but thanks to its sweet, slightly naughty silliness and the powerful
allure of its cast, there is much fans everywhere can take from this
charming and hilarious coming-of-age tale.
~ The
Lady Miz Diva
Apr 17th,
2015
© 2006-2022 The Diva Review.com
|
