Live Hard Review (Korean film): The Strength In Commitment

Looking at yourself in the mirror sounds like a simple enough and straightforward task. We all know what that looks like from a physical perspective. But to stare deeply at oneself through a pane of reflective surface and ask yourself the tough questions, often the way we think of the concept through the figure of speech. Only we know the questions to the answers we ask of ourselves. The most stressful and pressurizing interview we give each and every day, out of necessity whether that is a mirror’s primary function or not. Do we have what it takes to receive what we want in life? Only we can give that to ourselves. The reflection becomes scarier the more we think on what we are truly capable of.

Live Hard, directed and written by Hwang Wook is the story of a collection of musicians find themselves at a crossroads when their freewheeling leader (Im-jae) leaves on short notice, without any warning whatsoever to pursue his own opportunities. Desperate to find themselves a space for public performance, to do what they love while continuing to support themselves financially their paths indirectly intersect with a young (presumably, as it’s never stated in the film otherwise) foreign man with a darker complexion who has a penchant for the genre of blues, forced to rap instead, in order to keep his own personal finances in check.

This film is as independent as independent goes, featuring bands, performers, actors, and with that knowledge puts this refreshingly small scale film into a more important perspective. The passion for film and music as mediums, in particular independent and unknown music is unmistakable. The hazy, smoke-filled jazz club look to its visual style does wonders establishing tone and stakes. The underground niches of Korean music can be just as intimidating and cutthroat as the behemoths many miles above them on the revenue scale. Just like those above them, they are not excused from bureaucracy, diplomacy with those who have dominion over their ability to make money and to live the way they want to. It’s naturalistic cinematography and shot framing enhances its feeling to a fever pitch, rarely overdoing itself and allow its actors to create the scene without aggressive handholding from its direction. It’s a remarkably authentic and genuine portrayal of the world that struggling musicians willingly put themselves into for the unconditional love that they have for their craft. Though I will say that some of the performance scenes come across as a bit amateurish (not too unlike me and my writing) as some of them are obviously synced over instead of live performances which I believe hurts the films very raw and organic feel.

It’s unafraid to touch on topics such as culture clash and racism within Korea which should be lauded from a social standpoint. Believe you me, not much Korean arts do so (which is admittedly understandable given how homogenous of a country it is) but unfortunately it doesn’t commit to conveying anything meaningful about it beyond a passing glance. Not an inherently bad thing but feels more superficial than something that could’ve been even tangentially explored in a mildly meaningful way as a background device. There are smarter ways to create a living breathing world beyond saying “racism sure is bad right? Anyways…” which is often how this film comes across when discussing areas outside of its focus, even if for just a moment.

Characterization is not nearly as deep as it should be for a film as methodically paced and narratively slim as Live Hard often is. I don’t feel I know anything of value about these people beyond their surface levels. In fact one character in particular I haven’t even mentioned because she might has well have not even been a part of the the production she contributes little to actual nothing of substance to the proceedings.

Chris Lyon’s character (whose name is never mentioned) is portrayed as someone who is indecisive about his own musical fortunes, forced to rap against his desires, wandering from place to place in mostly silence. On a very personal and subjective note it irritates me that he has very few lines in the film. As shown in Itaewon Class he is a very fluent Korean speaker and more than capable of holding his own with his non-native tongue, unless the character he is portraying is supposed to be non-understanding, as I mentioned before it’s never clearly stated in the film.

Sure Im-jae may not be the most morally upstanding person in the world but at least he knows what he wants. he is driven for something better for himself, even if his motivations and methodology is not exactly the most reliable nor helpful to those around him. Whereas Chul and Seop are uncertain of genre or direction they want their musical careers to take or if they even want their musical careers to go anywhere at all. Conveyed smartly through intermittent scenes of each “season” where they are toying around on their instruments, watching videos of legendary performers, never really reaching cohesive decisions, often spend time arguing more than collaborating. Ironically the character who we arguably know the most about is one whom we only see on screen through visual symbolism.

The unsaid is just as important as the spoken dialogue in a visual medium such as film and I feel that this films glacial pace is it’s ultimate undoing, not because of it’s speed necessarily but because of how little is done with the non-verbal, large spaces between dialogue where genuinely not much is going on to tell unspoken stories, elements and aspects to it’s cinematic flair that it obviously has in droves. It certainly has it’s moments, such as Chris Lyon’s character looking in his reflection, visibly disliking what he sees, or Im-jae fever dream sequences where he is almost taunting the undecided through each successive band’s performance that they witness, but it simply isn’t enough for how much space and time Live Hard demands from it’s dialogue.

Ultimately if we are to bring the film into a cohesive message it is about the value of commitment in all of it’s forms, not necessarily being tied to any one form of it, certainly the we can tether ourselves to the situational aspects of wanting something more but lacking the emotional fortitude to do so. The specifically the commitment required in the underground Korean music scene that so many cannot afford to give. How truly terrifying and difficult it is to build yourself and your “brand” up enough to be able to take the risks that are required of you. To risk home, career, reputation, not everyone has the courage, almost reckless abandonment dare I say. And it is often those willing to go into it with no holds barred and push the risks of their safety nets forward that are able to fulfill their most deep seated desires and dreams at the risk of even less than they had before. No matter how much it may change them for the worse as a person. These are the consequences for the lives they crave, which even if they do gain come with their own set of risks and challenges.

This is an extremely unique film. Not only did it speak to me personally, as someone who invests a significant amount of time and brain space to the independent Korean music scene but to be portrayed in such a painful reality with such passion and love is sincerely appreciated. It’s quality as an artistic work may objectively skew closer to an average final piece, I can’t deny there aren’t aspects about it that I absolutely loved, even if it’s merit may be on the more lackluster side. The courage to make the film that it’s creators wanted to make is something that is not lost on me and if they find themselves looking in the mirror, having passing thoughts about what they created I hope they do so knowing that someone out there has intense respect for their work and ambition.