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Back to the Apocalypse: 1on1 with Yeon Sang-ho (PENINSULA)

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Sequels are always incredibly difficult to create.

After the incredible global success of Train to Busan, South Korean writer/director Yeon Sang-ho was excited to return to the world that he’d created. However, rather than focus on the survivors of the first film, Sang-ho became far more interested in creating something new within that same universe. 

Enter Peninsula.

A sequel to the South Korean zombie film Train to Busan, Peninsula is set four years after the events of the initial outbreak and follows a new cast. Jung-seok (Gang Dong-Won), an ex-military and survivor of the outbreak, and his brother-in-law, Chul-min (Kim Do-Yoon) are treated as second class citizens after escaping the now quarantined South Korea and flee to Hong Kong. Wanting to change his life, Chul-min decides to take a deal with a Chinese gang in order to acquire millions of dollars. The catch is that the money is in a truck that is stuck in the now apocalyptic South Korea. Worried about Chul-min’s safety, Jung-seok joins him and his squad to get the money. Intent on surviving the hell that awaits them, they must fight both zombies and the psychotic survivors of South Korea in order to get their money and leave.

Like Busan, Peninsula is its own story with new characters. Asked why he was so interested in returning to the world of Busan in this way, Sang-ho points out that Peninsula allowed him even more toys to play with within his creation.

“Zombie movies are always something that evoke a lot of imagination,” he begins. “Since Train to Busan dealt with the time when the zombie outbreak first began, there were many new imaginative stories that could be created using the backdrop that started a period of time after the initial outbreak. So, I started working on the project thinking there could be a new story that could emerge out of that backdrop. Like Train to Busan was Train to Busan… I started working on [this film] with the thought that Peninsula would be Peninsula, an entirely new movie on its own.”

“I could have made the survivors of Train to Busan the main characters, but on the other hand, I really wanted to show that Peninsula was an entirely different movie and not Train to Busan Part 2. So, I wanted new characters that faced new situations.”

Using new locations and characters also provided Sang-ho the opportunity to really explore how people respond to such heightened circumstances. In particular, Sang-ho created Unit 631, a military compound that pits man against zombie for the sport of those in control. 

“The idea behind Unit 631 was to depict people who completely gave up on hope and only act on impulse, chasing after stimuli,” he explains. “I thought, ‘What kind of stimuli would remain for them?’ Then, the idea of a race based on gambling came to mind and thus the hide-and-seek scene was created. I wanted the audience to feel the horror that Goo Chul-min felt in that situation, so I thought of creating the game scene in one cut.”

Though the film obviously takes place in a horrifying fantasy world, Peninsula also seems strangely current, especially in the context of a global pandemic. While today’s situation is something he could never have predicted, Sang-ho also believes that the timing couldn’t be better for the film’s themes of hope and survival.

“One of the most important questions in making the movie was, ‘What kind of hope can humans create in a world full of isolation and despair?’ I couldn’t have predicted that our current situation would arise. However, I consider it fortuitous to have been able to meet the audience with such a timely and relevant theme. And I believe that this is the destiny only for the movie Peninsula.”

For Sang-ho, this question of where one finds hope is embedded within post-apocalyptic films and stems from man’s ability to focus on his own actions.

“The theme of most post-apocalyptic movies is the story of humanism, which ironically shines even more when set against a post-apocalyptic background. While making a movie with a post-apocalyptic background, I wanted to highlight those points. In any situation, we can look for despair or we can look for hope.”

In addition, Sang-ho also believes that Peninsula speaks to the nature of man’s role in community with one another.

“The theme of this movie is not about what kind of situation you find yourself in, but what kind of people you surround yourself with. This work reflects a lot about a person’s will to live in solidarity in the world.”

Of course, the obvious question is whether or not Sang-ho intends to continue to play in the Busan universe or if he’s prepared to move on. Taking his unique approach to the franchise, it’s Sang-ho’s hope that Peninsula may only be the first of many stories that take place in this post-apocalyptic world.

“I think there are many more diverse stories to be told within the world of Peninsula. Apart from actually directing it, I think there are many different stories of people that were not covered in this movie. I hope these stories will one day be made into movies.”

Peninsula is available in theatres now.

Horror and History: 1on1 with Jeff Barnaby (BLOOD QUANTUM)

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Directed by Jeff Barnaby, Blood Quantum brings us to the isolated Mi’gMaq reserve of Red Crow where things begin to spiral out of control when an unseen virus begins to turn the locals into blood-thirsty zombies. As the dead begin to come back to life, the Indigenous inhabitants discover that they are strangely immune to the plague and are forced to care for those in the area who are desperately seeking sanctuary themselves. Asked what inspired him to make his film from the perspective of First Nations peoples, Barnaby states that his vision simply extends from a desire to tell a zombie story in fresh and exciting ways.

“I reversed engineered this story from just wanting to do a zombie movie,” he begins. “Honestly, we’re sitting around at TIFF in either 2006-7 and John and I, the producer, had just finished screening The Colony, which blew up. We ended up on TIFF’s Top Ten… We were feeling pretty good about ourselves. So, we were like, ‘Let’s do a zombie film!’ [laughs] Nobody was going to hand over $5 million to any first-time filmmaker to do a zombie film. So, that’s how we ended up doing Rhymes [for Young Ghouls] first because we wanted to show people that were viable for that kind of money and that kind of market… So, with Blood Quantum, it was just the idea of wanting to do a zombie film…”

In developing the film, he wrestled with how to make use of the ‘virus’ motif within the narrative, especially considering the historically traumatic relationship between Indigenous people and foreign disease. 

“I think people are making that association because of the environment we’re in now, but also because of the history of indigenous people and their association with viruses,” Barnaby clarifies. “The word ‘virus’ is never even mentioned once in the film and neither does a source and everybody’s just assuming it’s a virus. If they don’t die, it could be a Martian. You don’t know. It was implied in a couple of other things too [that] there was a spaceship showed up out of nowhere and the dead started coming back to life. But it is a virus, to end the debate. In earlier draft of the script, it was more explicit to be more like a 28 Weeks Later virus. And I felt like it would’ve been in bad taste to do something like that considering the history of indigenous people. I felt like indigenous people love zombies and to turn it more into a classical zombie horror film class rather than make the explicit comparison. I felt like just by putting natives in that context, people were going to do it anyway and I didn’t really even draw those connections too explicitly.”

While the concept of the ‘killer virus’ movie is far from new, the current global pandemic certainly gives the film a more realistic edge to it. In light of a COVID-19 world, Barnaby points out that history may have shown that a situation like this should not have been unexpected.

“I’m here more or less because somebody in my historical lineage survived a pandemic, which is true of basically anybody on the planet right now,” he explains. “I think we’re just a group of people with the idea that it can’t happen to us. We were due for a major outbreak like this because you see it. Virtually every century, there’s some major pandemic. Almost hundred years ago to the day, it was the Spanish Flu. It seems like all the things that came up then are coming up now and I keep hearing myself explaining over and over again [that] humanity’s learning curve is a circle. I feel like the film in and of itself is expressing that same idea. You’re picking a film and you’re basically creating this false construct them from making a comment on postcolonial North American culture. I didn’t really do anything besides following the patterns. I feel like I was just making logical leaps… There have been minor outbreaks here and there. We were getting warning shots across the bow for so long. I feel like this was bound to happen and I didn’t even think like that when I was writing the film. To me, I was following the pattern, right? I was following the patterns of disease and the pattern of social structure and reaction to the disease. So, you still see the xenophobia that you saw from the early turn of the century and it’s just one big circle.”

With this in mind, Barnaby goes on to say that Quantum ultimately serves as a metaphor to the relationship between First Nations people and the pain of colonialism.

“It’s the retelling the story of colonialism, which invariably involves disease,” describes Barnaby, “and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say we are where we are right now because of the mass pandemics on this land. If the smallpox fires didn’t wipe out half the population, would the face of this culture look the way it looks now? Of course not. Diseases and the xenophobia that comes with that has shaped our society. I think natives or indigenous people have such a weird relationship with that history because, in a sense, that’s what led to our decimation. Our population disappeared 90% in about a century. That’s one of the comments in Blood Quantum also that we’re the perfect post-apocalyptic society because we survived all these pandemics. We’ve survived violent oppression and we’re pretty good at making barricades.” [laughs]

Frustrated by the limitations of conventional filmmaking, Barnaby considers the horror genre to be the perfect place to discuss cultural issues through the metaphors inherent to wild and out-of-the-box circumstances.

“I think when you deal with mainstream film, you’re dealing with the group of people that do not want to rock the boat,” Barnaby argues. “It’s nauseous now. Never mind, [writing] an original script. You’re never going to see that. Everybody needs to get something that’s worked before so it’s either going to be a book or comic book or some sort of previously accessible whatever. Everybody is scared to make a leap in narrative. We’ve been making the hero’s journey for like two millennia. Now, it’s time to move on from those narrative beats for real. You can look at the hero’s journey and you could apply it to like literally 99% of the stuff that’s being released on a quote unquote mainstream market.”

“…All the craziest stories in every platform, comics, novels, video games, whatever. I find everything interesting right now is going on in either horror, science fiction or drama. I know I’m sick of superhero films, like Marvel. You can only see that applied to so many different characters before you’re wondering, ‘okay, what’s next?’ You start looking at the alternatives like Brightburn or some of the other films that have come out that have tried to subvert that hero’s journey.”

Uninhibited by the confines of mainstream cinema, Barnaby believes that horror gives him the freedom to tell more human stories.

“I don’t think any human story is that cut and dry. I don’t think I’m reinventing anything,” he continues. “I’m just telling stories the way they exist in life and I think native people have always done that. I think if you look at traditional native stories, they’re all over the place. People can change into boxes and time can shift all over the place. So, I’m just kind of following that rich tradition of crazy storytelling that I’ve come from and I’m applying it to cinema. I think you can’t really do that in mainstream cinema [but] horror will do anything. I think that’s why you’re seeing a renaissance now because the real ideas are coming out in horror. I think that’s how you get Us. I think that’s how you get the Ari Aster or Robert Eggers [stuff]. They’ll tell you they’re not horror directors. They’re dealing with the human condition. It just so happens that they’re using horror as a vehicle because that’s their aesthetic. I feel like I’m exactly the same way. When I looked at something like Midsommer, I don’t look at it as a horror film. I look at it as a breakup film. That’s exactly how it goes down in a mediocre relationship. It just so happens to take place in this environment where there’s a cult. That’s the only anomaly. I feel like, if you’re a storyteller that wants to deviate from those beats, horror welcomes you with open arms, whereas everybody else has their game plan to follow. Horror says ‘do what you feel’.”

Of course, by grounding his zombie horror on the Mi’gMaq reserve, Barnaby has ample opportunity to explore more conventional horror tropes through the eyes of the First Nations people. For example, when one character makes his ‘last stand’ against the oncoming horde, most films would stereotypically use this as an opportunity for that character to prove their individual worth. However, Blood Quantum more poignantly uses that moment to speak more to that character’s connection with the land itself, rather than any personal glory.

“Typically, when you see those ‘last stands’, [they are] for some sort of noble [crap],” he explains. “The native in Predator comes to mind. He’s just going to stand there because he wants to have a man-on-man fight,” he illustrates. “I think for [that character], I think he did that because he’s a veteran… He’s a WWII veteran so you get the impression that he has left the land to fight for this ‘country’ and he ended up coming back realizing that, [he was] just murdering people for no reason. You hear stories of native veterans coming back. I could see why he would not want to be chased off that land again. The idea that he plans on making the last stand there is absurd because this old man has no intentions of dying there. He plans on killing every zombie that shows up and it’s left ambiguous. To me, it’s not a last stand, it’s more like a beginning. The ending of the film is the beginning of the world and a new order where indigenous ideals are front and center. One of those ideals is that I’m not leaving my land anymore. You’re not moving me off my land with your violence and your aggression. That’s the last statement. If there’s a sequel, I think that that’s going to be the first thing we address.”

Having said this, Barnaby insists that his vision for this story is far from over and, given the chance, he’d be very excited to revisit the world and pick up where Quantum leaves off.

“I don’t feel like I wrapped it up at all,” he beams. “The first version of the screenplay was 140 pages or something. There’s a so many more stories to tell in that world, centralized around the main concept of native people being immune. There is an outline of a sequence in this too where they start trying to do a blood serum on that baby. So, basically, it’s a retelling of snatching native babies so we can experiment on them. The surviving military industrial complex is visiting reserves to get these immune babies so they can make a blood serum out of it. That’s the premise of this second movie… That’s such a hard movie to make. I don’t know if I would like step up to the plate. Let’s see what happens. If that became an option, I would definitely not say no because, like I said, the idea is already there. I’ve already written down the beats. So, it’s just a matter of writing the story. Personally, I would like to see the Jeff Barnaby I am today and the progress I’ve made as a screenwriter and director versus the guy who wrote a screenplay 10-15 years ago.”

After showing the film to other Indigenous people, Barnaby is excited by their overwhelmingly positive response. Though there are some people who have found underlying issues that they find troubling, he thinks that the true horror audiences will take these supposed problems in stride and understand the true message of the film.

“[The response from Indigenous people] is always positive,” he asserts. “I have had some negative reactions from people that I think had an agenda going into the film. I mean, there’s obviously a lot of triggers in that film. I mean, there are beats of misogyny. There’s really obvious violence. I think what makes the violence that much more disturbing is that there’s a bit of a philosophy behind it. I think when he started seeing that if you’re a kind of a reactionary person, your immediate reaction is going to be ‘Jeff Barnaby’s a misogynist’. I think, if you come in with a bit of a raw spot, this film is going to pull up at that raw spot and whether it be race relations, gender relations, whatever the case may be, it’s all in there. I think it’s in there in a way that doesn’t wrap it up with a nice bow on top. It presents it to the audience. And assumes that the audience is intelligent enough to unpack it. There’s no real beats where any of the main characters are kind of kind of like, ‘Gee, I wonder why [this character] so misogynistic?’

“I think horror audiences have that wherewithal to read films that are layered with subtexts. So, I think it will be good. I think you are going to get those idiots that are like comparing me to Harvey Weinstein or saying that I’m trying to enforce blood quantum laws, whatever the case may be. But I think the great overwhelming majority are going to grasp what’s behind the film and what’s being said. When you compare this to my previous work, I think there’s a narrative thought that you can follow from one piece to the other. So… if you see something in this film that’s off putting, I think it’s more because you’re choosing to focus on it rather than big picture.

For full audio of our interview with Jeff Barnaby, click here.

Blood Quantum is available on VOD now.

Blood Quantum: Shedding History’s Blood

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In Blood Quantum, things begin to spiral out of control on the isolated Mi’gMaq reserve of Red Crow when an unseen virus begins to turn the locals into blood-thirsty zombies. As the dead begin to come back to life, the Indigenous inhabitants discover that they are strangely immune to the plague and are forced to care for those in the area who are desperately seeking sanctuary themselves.

Directed by Jeff Barnaby, Quantum takes the all-too-familiar zombie genre and somehow makes it feel fresh and engaging. While the structure follows the necessary zombie tropes, the setting and its unique voice breathe new life into the film. By framing the narrative through the lens of the Indigenous people, Barnaby’s vision balances blood and carnage with social commentary, making the film both fun and thought-provoking at the same time. Led by an especially strong performance by Michael Greyeyes as the courageous but emotionally broken Traylor, Quantum’s solid casting helps the story feel more personal as opposed to simply another horror epic. However, the struggle within Quantum runs much deeper than a fight against the killer virus. Along with the blood and guts, the battle within Quantum also reaches to the heart of a culture that speaks at a historical level. 

More specifically, while Quantum definitely entertains, the film allows Barnaby to explore tensions between Indigenous people and the white community. As the virus begins to spread throughout Red Crow, the fight for survive begins to also expose the underlying racial tensions that run throughout the community. (Incidentally, the film’s title refers to a colonial blood measurement system that is used to determine the validity of one’s aboriginal status.) As such, while some Mi’gMaq are willing to see potential for the cultures to build a new future together, there are others who remain entrenched in their hatred. While the walls literally keep those infected at bay, they also serve as a visual metaphor for the self-protection of a people that have been taken advantage of over the years. While white families are invited inside the compound, they are met with a suspicious eye, both as a potential carrier of the virus but also because of past experiences. As a result, Quantum highlights the struggle to build something new when history remains such an obstacle. 

Questions of what it means to tear down painful barriers and begin again are often painful and, thankfully, Quantum is willing to explore the impact of such decisions. Who can be trusted when history has shown us others have not been trustworthy before? Can forgiveness break through in an effort to move forward? What does it mean to celebrate our differences but come together as one? Even though it’s not  uncommon for horror films to delve into social commentary, it’s questions such as these that help give Quantum its unique voice and soul. 

While the zombie genre may have been mined frequently, thankfully Barnaby is able to breathe fresh air into his horror epic through his passion to explore new ground. Strong performances, a solid script and poignant direction give the film its unique voice and, as a result, Blood Quantum definitely rises above the [zombie] herd.

To hear audio of our conversation with Jeff Barnaby, click here.

Blood Quantum brings the carnage to VOD on Tuesday, April 28th, 2020.

Rampant: Land of the Living Dead

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Directed by Kim Sung-Hoon, Rampant is an unexpectedly fascinating mashup of genres as classical Asian cinema meets horror film. After all, a period piece about a Korean prince who returns home amidst political turmoil hardly screams zombie apocalypse. Somewhat surprisingly, however, Rampant proves itself to be a fun and engaging film that breathes fresh life into the genre.

Set in ancient South Korea, Rampant tells the story of Prince Ganglim (Hyun Bin), the heir to the throne of the Joseon region. Returning home as a result of his brother’s death, Ganglim soon discovers that a darkness looms over his home province as murderous creatures known as Night Demons have overrun the country. With the nightmarish monsters plaguing the country and the minister of military Kim Ja-joon (Jang Dong-gun) plotting to overthrow the dynasty, Prince Ganglim realizes that he must fight in order to save his home country.

While the film contains plenty of the gore and violence that one would expect from the zombie genre, the heart of the film lies in the journey of Prince Ganglim and his relationship with the throne. Returning home due to the death of his brother, Ganglim has no interest in taking the seat of power from his father when the time comes. A womanizer with a proficiency to curse, Ganglim hardly lives his life in a manner that reveals the image of a King (nor is he interested in doing so). Though respectful of the culture of the time, he strangely seems like a man out of time, more interested in his own freedom than continuing the family legacy of leadership. To Ganglim, leadership represents power, control and maintaining the status quo – three words that he finds utterly repulsive. The Joseon region is in dire need of change, though he does not believe he is the one to bring it to fruition given his values and interests.

With this in mind, Ganglim’s journey speaks to his understanding of the nature of leadership. Though he views the throne through the eyes of power, the people of the Joseon region view it as a position of servanthood. (“Without the people, there is no king,” Ganglim is reminded.) As Ganglim begins to realize that the nature of leadership stems from one’s desire to seek the best for those under their care, he also begins to recognize that genuine change may be possible. (Incidentally, Ganglim’s views are diametrically opposed to the Minister of War Kim, Ja-joon. Although he also believes a new world must be created, his tactics reveal his belief that change comes not from altering the systems of power but simply placing himself in the role instead.) Here, Ganglim must realize that true leadership comes when royalty humble themselves and take the very nature of a servant. As he does, he opens his heart to become more than the selfish regime that came before.In the end, Rampant serves its audience well. By balancing the gore and intensity of the zombie genre with the classical battle for power of other Asian period pieces, the film creates space for something new while honouring tradition. Still, the true heart of the film lies in one hero’s journey to rebirth as a true leader.

Rampant is available on demand on February 26th, 2019

 

Anna and the Apocalypse: Merry Bloody Christmas

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One sleepy Christmas, a zombie apocalypse threatens the sleepy town of Little Haven, forcing Anna and her friends to fight, slash and sing their way to survival, facing the undead in a desperate race to reach their loved ones. But they soon discover that no one is safe in this new world, and with civilization falling apart around them, the only people they can truly rely on are each other.

Combining catchy pop tunes with blood and gore, Anna and the Apocalypse is what happens whenNight of the Living Dead meets Glee. Director John McPhail establishes an infectious joy throughout the film that effectively lampoons the ‘traditional Christmas movie’ by throwing holiday tropes up against the undead. (Lost holiday romance andsevered limbs? Take that, Lifetime Network!) Solid performances—especially musically—from its cast keep the tone light and the story almost absurd throughout most of the film (even if things do become more serious as the story progresses). In doing so, Annasets itself apart from other Christmas comedies, potentially giving it a long [after]life as a new cult holiday classic.

Interestingly, one of the key ideas throughout the film seems to serve as a reminder that one’s life rarely ever ends perfectly like it does in the movies. As Annabegins, each of the character are set firmly in the Hollywood staple of tropes. Whether they want to set out on their own, find true love or even simply be accepted for who they are, these teens could have stepped directly out of any ‘coming of age’ drama where we know they’re going to be okay.

Except they aren’t.

To its credit, this is a film that allows its character arcs to end in ways that don’t always reflect the traditional resolutions that we expect. Looking for love? Death awaits. Unrequited love? Probably won’t work out. While these teens yearn for life to be like they’ve seen onscreen, they soon find that their plans mean little when the apocalypse is nigh. Glossy dreams soon dissipate when faced with a wave of blood-thirsty zombies. (There’s even an entire musical number devoted to the fact that ‘there’s no such thing as a Hollywood ending’.) In fact, one of the more interesting ideas about the film is its interest in exploring how the individualistic interests of its characters give way to a deeper focus on community as things begin to slide into chaos. (It’s hard to sing about your personal hopes and dreams when survival becomes the end game.) As the film progresses, each character must decide whether to do what’s best for themselves or join those around them and serve something greater. In doing so, Annaserves as a reminder that, while individual goals are an important part of who we are, they pale in comparison to what can be accomplished when we come together.

In the end, Anna and the Apocalypse will admittedly serve a certain niche market. (Not everyone is looking for blood and gore in their Christmas whimsy.) Still, this is not something for which the film needs to apologize. It knows what it wants to do and who it’s doing it for (and it does it well).

Merry bloody Christmas to you all.

 

Anna and the Apocalypse is in theatres now.