Soldiering On: An Examination Of The Coast Guard

Borders are one of the more intangible quantities of geopolitics. While it does exist in a physical sense, potentially of walls and armed guards, a lot of these imaginary lines separating country, culture, language, and many other differences, are mostly human constructs that we are told are for reasons of historical conflicts, safety, and something resembling tranquility for the populace inside of them. And there is no more fortified and arguably well known border on earth than the demilitarized zone that has separated South and North Korea since the unofficial “end” of the Korean War. It probably goes without saying that it has had its fair share of international squabbles and various incidents in and around the DMZ with military and civilian casualties.

It’s a sad state of affairs, particularly for those on the South side, considering that the Seoul National Capital Area, which is a mere 30 miles away from the DMZ, houses 24.5 million people which is just about half of South Korea’s entire population. So the looming threat of Northern aggression would presumably be at the back of the collective mind of the nation. Particularly the half of the population that lives so close to the border. A situation that I would assume was quite often on the mind of the late Korean filmmaking maverick Kim Ki-duk, whose films have never shied away from incendiary topics and aggressive themes, and inspired him to ultimately created his 2002 film “The Coast Guard.”

The narrative of the film centers on Private Kang, a very new and very eager member of the South Korean Marine Corps Border Patrol. Tasked with guarding the coastline he is consumed with the idea of being able to have the chance to take out of a North Korean spy presumably intent with infiltrating the South by way of the sea. His commanding officers make it clear to the entire unit that doing so will earn a commendation and a discharge, honored for the rest of their lives, failure will be met with disdain and disgrace.

Kim smartly shows the dichotomy between the armed forces and the population that they are tasked with guarding and the uneasy/unwelcome reception given to the soldiers from the small coastal town’s residents not wasting anytime sewing the seeds to discontent. Hostility that our main character does not take too kindly to. Even threatening to take the life of those crossing the line who are not spies. His friend reminding him to take it easy, they’re used to it by now. A large focus of the exposition is spent enforcing Private Kang’s passion and enthusiasm for his post and craft. It borders on obsession to carry out his duty for personal honor and country.

Low and behold a couple that was amongst those involved in the bust up between Private Kang and the small group of civilians decide to thrill seek and engage in sex beyond the border. Ill-advised? Probably. Worth being killed for? Whether or not it was that’s what ultimately happens to the male, at the hands of Private Kang no less.

The majority of the film from that point on is focused on the aftermath of the events and the descent into madness of Private Kang whose mental state is tormented and shaken beyond repair. The guilt of killing an unarmed civilian, the inevitable media firestorm that ensues, and ultimately his discharge from the service, not in the honorable way he had most likely imagined. His point of no return into the realm of insanity punctuated by being told time and time again by his former comrades that he cannot return to the place where he found his reason to be and what he believed to be his higher purpose in life. Disillusioned and contorted with rage by the forces that he blames for encouraging him to be as he was and ultimately hanging him out to dry to his well-intentioned mistake, he sets out to stalk through the shadows and take revenge upon the unit that cast him aside and ruined his dream. 

Kim uses the young woman whose lover’s life was taken before her eyes as somewhat of an analog to Private Kang’s breakdown in a very smart and deliberate manner. Her mental capacity is completely broken by the trauma that has taken her over after losing her boyfriend. Her mannerisms are wild and unbound conveyed through the hilarity of the very strange and unpredictable actions she takes such as regressing back to an almost childlike anarchist state of personality (peeing wherever, slicing her hair with a butcher knife) to trying to engage in sexual activity with every soldier she sees. The life and competency completely gone from her eyes, mannerisms and facial expressions. 

The borders of her mind, much like her counterpart Kang, completely breached, to the point of no return to the sanity she very recently knew. 

The surrealism and chaotic tones that begin to take hold are very much intentional. For what it’s worth they are convincingly conveyed.  And while it is in service to the thematic undertones trying to be conveyed they unfortunately a little too often stretch beyond the suspension of disbelief in what is meant to be a very real conflict. It is meant to portray the powers of the Korean military in SUCH a bumbling and wholly incompetent fashion and while it was probably a necessary sacrifice in order to achieve its greater vision it comes across as somewhat dissonant and out of place to me.

There are many layers to this piece, thematically it goes much deeper than one might initially think, there’s that iceberg theory at work. While it is most definitely a criticism of the human cost and pointlessness of the tensions of the Korean DMZ, I believe there is more to it than just that. Kang is a symbol for passion mixed with paranoia for good measure, militaries must fear themselves and the messages and ideologies they instill into their service people as much as they fear their enemies. The paranoia that continues to fund the entity with real world dollars and WMDs and validate why it exists is injudicious and at its core, a handmade inevitability.