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3-Iron

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"3-Iron" is a delightful surprise. Kim Ki-duk's "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter" was so lyrical and so cinematically beautiful that it is amazing that this DVD keeps up that film's quality. The fact that most of the film is nonverbal makes this subtitled drama particularly easy for international audiences to adopt. Jae Hee Song as the young lead Tae-suk is good looking and keeps our eyes glued to the screen. The unusual plot of a young man who breaks into houses and apartments while the owners are away is filled with lyrical details. In one scene, he carefully selects a toothbrush before sitting on the toilet brushing his teeth. He seems to experience the lives of the people by seeing their surroundings, cleaning their clothes, fixing appliances & eating their food. Lee Seung-yeon was in a 1996 film about a serial killer called "Pianoman" before taking on the role of Sun-hwa. Sun is an abused wife of a controlling husband. Tae-suk inhabits her house as she quietly observes him taking a bath and reveals herself to him as he lies in her bed self-stimulating to nude pictures of her from an album. Her middle aged controlling husband Min-kyo played by Gweon Hyeok-ho returns from a business trip. He has bruised her face and bloodied her lip and blames her for not picking up the phone and speaking to him. Depressed, she falls into an exquisite wordlessness that suits Tae-suk's observant lifestyle of stepping into other people's lives. After the husband has slapped his wife, Tae-suk launches golf balls into the squealing husband. When Sun-hwa flees with Tae-suk on his motorcyle, they enter a series of other people's homes, relaxing on a red sofa looking out on an interior garden, being in the home of a boxer and finally finding the body of an elderly person that they clean, wrap and bury according to custom. Not each of Tae-suk's attempts wind up benign, however, as he injures a person in a car with a golf ball and perhaps results in the shooting of a young mother. Ju Jin-mo plays the corrupt detective who eventually charges Tae-suk and releases Sun-hwa to the prison of her husband. Tae-suk immediately applies his observation of minute detail to his jail cell, memorizing the floor, exploring the walls and completely making himself at home. Lee Ju-suk is the abusive jailer who repeatedly investigates an apparently empty cell as Tae-suk mirrors each movement and stays directly behind the jailer. It is breathtaking cinema for the incorporation of martial arts-like movement and dance in to the simplest of surroundings. The film concludes with Tae-suk's escape and revisiting of houses into which he had previously broken. It climaxes with him reuniting with Sun-hwa, kissing her as she hugs her husband. "3-Iron" is a wonderful delight, quite different from the heavy-handed car-crash Hollywood-style blockbuster, pixie-like in its sweetness and simplicity. It explores the sometimes small distance between life and dream. Bravo!

One of the more talented Korean directors working today is Kim-ki Duk whose latest film 3-Iron, was released this year (2005) here in the US and is out on DVD domestically in September. This is the tale of a young guy--nameless-who makes a meager living as a distributor of promo flyers for an eating establishment and also has the habit of breaking into the homes of people who are away so he can eat their food and maybe take a nap. But he's not completely malicious; one of his great virtues is the ability to clean clothes by hand.

One such house he breaks into is that of a middle-aged man with a young wife who's been mistreated. As he goes about his gentle intruder business he doesn't realize, at first, that the wife is right there in the house with him, although her husband is not. It's obvious from her appearance that she's been recently roughed up. She watches him fascinated and finally makes her presence known.

The two of them hook up with each other almost immediately and as one thing leads to another, the convergence of the spurned husband, an angry cop, an angrier prison guard, and the two lovers--along with the game of golf (from which the film derives its title) results in a unique film that, although almost 70% dialogue free, is a really compelling love story.

There's a sequence in a prison cell with the male lead that is truly imaginative, absorbing, even compelling. And the device of the scale being modified (our protagonist is also an expert at "fixing" things) is very clever, especially as shown at the very end of the film when the lovers stand on the scale together and the combined weight is somewhat less than it should be.

Both lovers have the innate (and eventually overt) ability to be "ghost people"; this contrasts with the middle-aged husband's rude, crude persona, as it does with that of the cop and the prison guard. The implication of this, interestingly enough, is that the finer emotions--love, true feeling, compassion--are those experienced by people who are maybe not completely in the world but just outside of it, while those who are very much of this world express themselves roughly, crudely, angrily, making the world what we unfortunately expect it to be rather than what we know it CAN be.

This is a brilliant film and should be seen by a much wider audience. Very highly recommended.

When Tae Suk (Jae Hee) and Sun-hwa (Lee Seung-yeong) meet or more to the point see each other for the first time, it takes but a moment for them to realize they were meant to be together: one, very quiet moment you see because neither of them utter nary a word during the bulk of Ki-Duk Kim's "3 Iron." In fact, in this movie it is only the loud mouths, the abusers, the malcontents, the bullies, the bad guys who speak out loud and when they do, it usually is a scream, a put down or an abuse.
Tae Suk has an ingenious style of living: he breaks into unoccupied homes and settles down for a night or two. He even does any laundry he finds and neatly hangs it out to dry. He also repairs anything he finds broken: he is the ultimate, caring intruder as, even though he eats whatever is in the refrigerator, he often leaves the home cleaner than he finds it.
It is during one of those "stays" that Tae-Suk meets Sun-hwa, who escapes her abusive husband and joins Tae-Suk in his vagabond ways. Almost immediately, Tae-Suk and Sun-hwa are in sync in what becomes "their" quest to find the perfect home to occupy. One such home is decorated in the traditional Korean-style with a beautiful garden and the two are the most tranquil and at peace there as befits their obviously loved and care-for surroundings.
As with all fables, and "3 Iron" is definitely one, the real world intrudes in the person of Min-kyu (Kwon Hyuk-ho), Sun-hwa's abusive and obnoxious husband who promptly buys off the police and has Tae-Suk arrested and sends Sun-hwa into a major depression.
Director Ki-Duk Kim (the sublime "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring") delicately slices open Korean society and exposes the ugly underbelly and the real brutality the often passes for love and caring. And by extension, he exposes this fakery underneath all societies with the audacious use of wit, humor and a knowing eye on what makes us all tick. That he also creates a romance that rivals that of any modern screen pair just adds to his masterful achievement.

Who are we, and of what are we made? Flesh, spirit, both? Are we figments of another's imagination, or figures in a dream? If so, are we the dreamers or the dreamed? Can we transcend what we are and become something of our own making? Korean director KIM Ki-duk explores all of these questions in his film "3-Iron" (Korean title, "Empty House"), an evocative meditation on the nature of substance and transformation.

Tae-suk, a young man of obvious means and (we will learn) a college education, has chosen to exist outside the society in which he lives, moving silently and with near invisibility on its extreme outer edges. Dressed in fine clothes and riding a new BMW motorcycle through the streets of Seoul, he cleverly deduces which houses are empty of their occupants and then moves in for the night. He enjoys the home owner's food, TV, bath, bed, and always photographs himself against a portrait of them, or with some beloved object of theirs. But this is only half of the deal he strikes with his unwitting hosts--he repays and thanks them by washing their clothes (by hand, with a washboard), tidying their houses, repairing their broken appliances. His level of skill at choosing and entering these homes testifies to the length of time he has been living like this, and clearly he intends to go on as he has, until the day he enters the house of a rich businessman. He spends his day in the usual manner, unaware that he has been observed all along by someone every bit as stealthy as himself. Sun-hwa, the silent, sorrowing wife of an abusive husband, watches him as he washes her clothes, practices his golf swing, fixes the bathroom scale (he weighs 65 kilos, she, 47), until he goes to bed. Then she makes her presence known. Startled and distressed, Tae-suk beats a hasty retreat, stopping only long enough to hear Sun-hwa's angry husband berating her over the telephone answering machine and her frustrated scream, her only reply to the furious man. After taking in her beaten face and exchanging long, meaningful looks, Tae-suk leaves, only to find himself compelled to return to the house. He finds Sun-hwa weeping in the bath, and rather than speak to her he goes to her closet and chooses a pale pink outfit to replace the black one she has been wearing all day, then to the CD player to put in a CD he has been carrying with him. The mournful, haunting voice of Natacha Atlas (singing in an unearthly-sounding Arabic) seems to call Sun-hwa to join Tae-suk in his world between the seen and unseen worlds, and she does so in perfect, yet silent, understanding. (Never once, for the entire length of the film, does Tae-suk speak, while Sun-hwa speaks only briefly, at the end of the film.) Sun-hwa's husband returns to encounter a wife whom he can no longer persuade or bully into intimacy with him, and a silently vengeful stranger who attacks him in a rather unorthodox manner with the 3-iron golf club of the title. The two leave, and so begin their transformative journey together.

Like Terrence Mallick, Andrey Tarkovsky, the Polish brothers, and other great poets of cinema, KIM ki-duk tells his story almost entirely through inference, implying that language is not merely unnecessary, but even destructive. Like the above-mentioned directors, KIM creates characters who live in the margins, yet through them and their rejection of the things of the world--including language--all of life, especially the life of the spirit, gains force. In today's rackety world of cinema it is a daring thing to open one's film with 20 minutes of near absolute silence-- no music beyond a bit over the front titles--and virtually no dialogue. Most directors would have lost their nerve and scored the thing, but KIM trusts his audience to stay with him even as the silence deepens. Sun-hwa and Tae-suk go from home to home, and a ritual emerges: he puts on the Natacha Atlas CD, they eat, sleep, and, eventually, make love, though this is not the true consummative act of their relationship. In between new abodes, Tae-suk practices with the 3-Iron he's taken from Sun-hwa's husband. This is the one activity of which Sun-hwa disapproves and tries to stop. She seems to see it as evidence of some attachment, in Tae-suk, to the bourgeois world; it's the sort of thing her husband does, a rich man's hobby with no place in the life these two seek. A terrible accident only underscores its "wrongness" (perhaps the film's only moment of heavy-handedness). Eventually we will see that Tae-suk has no need of a physical 3-iron, and questions will arise: Is an invisible golf ball real, if people are fighting over it? Is an invisible 3-iron the proper weapon for an invisible man?

The film boxes Seoul's compass, taking us from the wealthiest neighborhoods to the poorest, from the bourgeoisie to the avant-garde. In the apartment of the photographer who has, on a previous occasion, photographed Sun-hwa, she is confronted with her own idealized portrait on the wall, the symbol of her life as an object of beauty to be possessed by her wealthy husband (issues of ownership and possession are repeatedly explored in "3-Iron"). She dismantles this portrait, re-arranging it into an image that more reflects her image of herself at the moment and replaces it on the wall (keep your eyes on the evolution of this photograph throughout the film).

The pair perform small acts of kindness (which are as invisible to those for whom they are performed as they themselves are), and one great act of tenderness, which brings them suddenly and terribly to the attention of others--in the fringe world they are occupying, it is dangerous to be seen. They end up in the custody of the police, Sun-hwa is handed over to her husband like a piece of luggage he's filed a claim about, and after a few misadventures while in custody, Tae-suk ends up in jail.

In a world where the cult of materialism prevails, everything is for sale, including the integrity of the police, but they are repeatedly frustrated as Tae-suk refuses to be traumatized, or even mildly irked, by their brutality or the brutality of those who can buy them. Stuck in his jail cell, invoking Shamanic and yogic rituals, Tae-suk trains himself in the art of invisibility. To the increasingly violent rage of the guard, who beats him for "hiding" from him, Tae-suk masters this completely until finally, he can choose whether to be seen or not. Meanwhile, Sun-hwa is lost, performing their simple rituals such as hand-washing her laundry and wandering the streets, dressed again in black but unable to find, on her own, the way back to the secret world she had lived in with Tae-suk. Her despair deepens as she is forced to accept her life with a husband who will never know or understand her, until the day her husband announces that Tae-suk is being released from jail. He is taken from his cell and released, and we see how successfully he has transcended the merely physical as he moves, unseen, through the same homes he has visited while they were empty. Their occupants "feel" a presence, but cannot see him. At the photographer's apartment, Sun-hwa's portrait been more or less reassembled; a moment later the photographer and his girlfriend find the frame empty: Tae-suk has removed her entirely from the gaze of the outside world. He winds up, finally, at Sun-hwa's house, where he allows only Sun-hwa to see him. After a playful interaction in the presence of the unseeing husband, a triumph of spirit over matter occurs when Tae-suk lifts Sun-hwa (no longer in black) into his world and they stand together on the bathroom scale, which now measures their combined weight as zero.

This ending seems to have been read in many different ways (I had a strong feeling that the husband would never be able to find his house again, that the whole house had been transformed into a spirit in which the two lovers would live forever), as indeed the entire film has. It certainly can be read as a simple love story or, as Brian T. has made an excellent case for, a Buddhist allegory, but in the end it is a film, and cinema has a language all its own. Reading and deciphering the clues of a poetic and imaginative film is, in itself, a worthy occupation, and "3-Iron" provides a great deal of rich material.

A note on the music, for those who were captivated by the song Tae-suk plays. It is a song called "Hafsa" and can be found on Natacha Atlas' 1997 CD "Halim."

One of the more talented Korean directors working today is Kim-ki Duk whose latest film 3-Iron, was recently released here in the US. This is the tale of a young guy--nameless-who makes a meager living as a distributor of promo flyers for an eating establishment and also has the habit of breaking into the homes of people who are away so he can eat their food and maybe take a nap. But he's not completely malicious; one of his great virtues is the ability to clean clothes by hand.

One such house he breaks into is that of a middle-aged man with a young wife who's been mistreated. As he goes about his gentle intruder business he doesn't realize, at first, that the wife is right there in the house with him, although her husband is not. It's obvious from her appearance that she's been recently roughed up. She watches him fascinated and finally makes her presence known.

The two of them hook up with each other almost immediately and as one thing leads to another, the convergence of the spurned husband, an angry cop, an angrier prison guard, and the two lovers--along with the game of golf (from which the film derives its title) results in a unique film that, although almost 70% dialogue free, is a really compelling love story.

There's a sequence in a prison cell with the male lead that is truly imaginative, absorbing, even compelling. And the device of the scale being modified (our protagonist is also an expert at "fixing" things) is very clever, especially as shown at the very end of the film when the lovers stand on the scale together and the combined weight is somewhat less than it should be.

Both lovers have the innate (and eventually overt) ability to be "ghost people"; this contrasts with the middle-aged husband's rude, crude persona, as it does with that of the cop and the prison guard. The implication of this, interestingly enough, is that the finer emotions--love, true feeling, compassion--are those experienced by people who are maybe not completely in the world but just outside of it, while those who are very much of this world express themselves roughly, crudely, angrily, making the world what we unfortunately expect it to be rather than what we know it CAN be.

This is a brilliant film and should be seen by a much wider audience. Very highly recommended.

Those who have been introduced to Ki-Duk Kim through films such as Samaritan Girl (2004), Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring (2003), Bad Guy (2002), and The Isle (2000) have seen what this director can accomplish. All of his films display something unique and special that grabs the audience's attention in several ways. Many remember the fishhook scene from the Isle or the potent theme from Samaritan Girl. In both cases Ki-duk Kim presents something bizarre that generates visual discomfort and curiosity. Underneath the surface, he also offers a cerebral journey with much symbolism and artistic expression that the audience can explore, as his storytelling provides the necessary hooks to keep the audience both intrigued and curious. 3-Iron has all the same ingredients as Ki-duk Kim's previous films, but it also presents a new story with originality and clever symbolism in regards to silence, solitude, and devotion.

Often people ask for forgiveness, plead for help, or instruct others what to do, as if the mere words coming out of their mouth had some magical meaning. In this word-saturated society where the meaning of words has been washed out into faded jumbles of verbal explanations, people use words without any form of contemplation. Words without thought or feeling no longer provide any meaning, as actions often contradict the meaning of the word. This leaves the society with empty and hollow words that have no more value. When words have no meaning, action transcends into an interpretation of the persona of an individual, as actions are the embodiment of thoughts and feelings. 3-Iron illustrates the notion of meaninglessness in speech through a sublime portrayal of actions that speak more than the utterance of any character.

Transiently Tae-suk (Hee Jae) flows between different socioeconomic neighborhoods on his BMW motorcycle, as he tapes take-out menus on the doors of different homes. His purpose brings the notion of dubious intention, as he later returns in order to find the ones that have not been removed from the door, which suggests that the homeowner is not at home. Tae-suk carries a classy shiny locksmith box around with him that he uses to break in through the front door into the homes that still have the take-out menu taped on the door. Initially, the audience judges Tae-suk's actions by placing him in a category for criminals; however, patience will provide a surprise for the audience.

Through one of Tae-suk's entries to a stranger's house the audience get to witness his encounter with a woman, Sun-hwa (Seung-yeon Lee), who has been severely beaten by her husband. At first she merely observes him, as he is unaware of her presence. He goes about doing what he does every time he breaks into different homes. Eventually, she appears for him, which initially frightens him. In silence Tae-suk takes off on his motorcycle, but after some contemplation he returns to find her being abused once again. This is Tae-suk's turning point in the film, as he decides to interact with the help of an 3-Iron golf club and a couple of golf balls.

What is striking in this story is Tae-suk's silence, as he does not utter a word. He does not even talk with the beautiful Sun-hwa who runs off with him, as she follows him innocently and trustingly wherever he goes. Through her willingness to follow him, she adopts his way of life and his silence. Together they form a limitless bond of silent devotion, as they grow closer to each other through each other's actions. The actions display their personal feelings and thoughts, which display their true identity while the world around them continues to spread the verbal nonsense.

Once again, Ki-duk Kim succeeds in mesmerizing the audience through the title 3-Iron, which has the original title Bin-jip that translates Empty House. Even in the title Ki-duk Kim provides symbolism that has a dual allegorical meaning, as it refers to the silence. This silence could suggest absence and solitude while it could also provide an opportunity to see the truth. The second interpretation is a more complex explanation that is further evolved through Tae-suk's drawing in his hand of an eye, which also has its own symbolic meaning. The symbol of an eye in the hand combined with silence rises the question of whether words provide the truth, as they are easily manipulated while actions cannot be concealed, as they can be observed and felt. Maybe, this is a far-fetched theory, however, Tae-suk's silence and actions do the only speaking for him.

Together with the symbolism and cerebral presentation of the theme, the audience gets to come into contact with breathtaking cinematography. The camerawork enhances each scene, which is cleverly put together with detailed mise-en-scene and wonderful framing. Ki-duk Kim who also wrote the script manages to unveil a cinematic experience with very limited writing, and instead focus on the importance of what one can see and feel. This eventually leads the audience through a 90-minute superb journey where golf balls, actions, and words are tossed around in a brilliant composition.

Tae-suk is an interesting fellow. Apparently making a living posting fliers on the doors of people's homes, Tae-suk in fact uses the fliers to detect who is away from home (if the flier is still on the door after he has been away for several hours, Tae-suk assumes the residents of the house are away so it is safe for him to break in). While this description would at first peg Tae-suk for a thief he, in fact, does not steal a thing from the residences he enters. He normally prepares himself a meal, fixes any broken appliances, does the laundry, wears the occupant's pajamas, and stays for the night before making his exit and repeating the process over again. Tae-suk also takes photos of himself beside family portraits and other photos that portray the true occupants of the home. Why does he do such a thing? That information is never actually disclosed, because like the protagonists of several other Kim Ki-duk films, Tae-suk never utters a single word throughout the duration of the entire film. It is possible that Tae-suk would have continued this same pattern if he had not finally been caught.

One day after returning to a sprawling mansion, Tae-suk enters the residence while someone is still there because the flier he left earlier is still in place. The person still at the residence is Sun-hwa whose black eye and busted lip markedly show that she is the victim of domestic violence. However, instead of calling the police when she first notices Tae-suk in her home, she instead quietly follows him and watches him go about his normal routine until Tae-suk makes himself a bit too comfortable in her bed. Yet, even after that Tae-suk does not leave and in his silent way he looks after Sun-hwa who also is silent throughout the duration of most of the film. This quiet, sweet dance is interrupted, however, when Sun-hwa's husband returns home, but this time instead of getting to beat his wife he meets Tae-suk and the younger man puts him out of commission with three well shot golf balls. Leaving her home, Sun-hwa joins Tae-suk in his bizarre rituals, but for how long can they keep up such a routine?

Before viewing 3 Iron I've watched Kim Ki-duk's The Bow, The Isle, and Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring and while each of those films had their odd moments, I must say that I believe 3 Iron was odder than these three other films. However, despite being quite odd, I found 3 Iron to be quite sweet as well. Although they do not talk, the chemistry between Tae-suk and the older Sun-hwa is quite good and through their movements and such small touches such as when Sun Hwa rubs her foot on Tae-suk's the viewer can feel the love growing between the characters and how they fill what the other one lacks. Kim Ki-duk, of course, is one of South Korea's most popular directors in his homeland and in the West, especially France, and he rightly deserves to be so. 3 Iron is a splendid film that should be viewed not only by fans of South Korean cinema, but also by those who like their romance films with a twist.

Not since the era of Charley Chaplin has silence been so golden. Tae-suk (Hyun-kyoon Lee)gets by breaking into empty houses and living in them. He does this by leaving a restaurant menu taped to the door and coming back to see if it's still there, but on one fated day he invades a home with someone in it. Sun-hwa (Seung-yeon Lee) is a deeply depressed house wife with an abusive husband. When Tae-suk breaks into her home she is so defeated and broken that she decides to just watch him. After waking to find Sun-hwa staring at him, Tae-suk immediately leaves, but not before he overhears her husband harassing her through the answering machine. Overridden with guilt he comes back and rescues her from the clutches of her villainous husband, and they set out to journey through the rest of the movie together.

The first thing one would notice about this movie is that the main characters never speak. This presents a problem that i feel the director (Ki-duk Kim) overcomes masterfully. Just as Chaplin made the blind girl think the tramp was a millionaire by the sound of a car door closing, the actors also give subtle hints about the roles they portray. Tae-suk is portrayed as a person with whom you sympathize with rather then an evil intruder. Even though he breaks into a house, once inside he will not steal anything. He also fixes broken electronics, rearranges the furniture, and even does the inhabitants laundry. Seung-yeon Lee does an amazing job showing emotion without speech. Most of it is due to her expressive eyes and mastery of facial expressions.

Three Iron is one of the best examples of how a romance story should be told. For too long directors have been using the phrase of "I love you" as a crutch. Those words have lose all meaning when the audience, or worse yet the actors, don't feel what they are trying to convey. One look shared between Tae-suk and Sun-hwa had more feeling in it then the entire movies I have seen before. Ki-duk Kim, who also directed the critically acclaimed Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring, has made an amazing feat by creating a true universal romance move. The key to Chaplin's success was that you did not have to speak English to enjoy his movies, and you do not have to speak Korean to enjoy this one.

Sad part of the story is that nobody will see this movie. The film was made in only 16 days and the screen play took less then a month to write due to the lack of dialog. It does not have any commercial running on television, nor was it shown in many American theaters. This is a low budget film from Korea, which means that it will be stereotyped along with all the other independent films. It currently ranks in the Eight Thousands of the top selling DVDs, which considering it's success in Asia and Europe is very sad. I feel that given the right publicity this movie could be the next Blair Witch, but for now it will remain a hidden treasure on the shelves of blockbuster and in the foreign films section of FYE.

In a word, amazing. A wonderful story about trust, friendship, and love. If more people listened to the little silences between them instead of filling them up with drivel there'd be far less angst in the world! Too bad about the title, though. The translation of the original Korean title is "Empty House", not "3 Iron". Much more appropriate title, though, perhaps, it could have been called "Quishin Do", or "Way of the Ghost" and been as apt!

I have never seen a movie where two people fall in love and the entire movie they don't even know eachothers name. This is a weird movie and it has such a different style to it but it works. Tae-suk wonders around a neighborhood leaving fast food menu's on doors and in the first minutes you say oh he must a delivery boy and soon after you find out this is not the case.

After leaving a menu on every door he leaves and comes back at night to start doing his odd job. Whichever house with a menu still on he assumes this person is out of town then proceeds to pick his way into their home and starts doing whatever good he can. Now if you haven't read the back of the DVD case you think he must be a thief and for some crazy reason he's not. He just fixes whatever's broken, cleans whatever's dirty, takes pictures of himself with the house and then treats himself to whatever food is in the fridge and cleans himself.

He continues to do this until he goes into the wrong but the right house. In the home he finds a women that has been physically and mentaly abused by her husband. The two fall for eachother and she joins him in his routine. The only thing I think some people might find wrong is that a lot of questions go unanswered. I understand that this is one of those films that will end like that but it still seemed at least some of this mystery could of been told. This kid repeats this but he drives a very expensive BMW motorcycle and later in the movie you find out he has a college degree so why does he do this but you never find out any of his background and the same goes for his new girlfriend.

The two of them never say a word to eachother until the end so if you think that their mutes their not they just chose not to speak. All this is missing but I still have to give this film 5 stars because it's so different from any movie I've ever seen and it's a very good one watch it and you'll understand what I'm saying. The actors are right on point the surroundings fit with the movie and characters. I recommend watching this at night or when your more calm and have the patients.