THREE...EXTREMES 2

(a.k.a. SAAM GAANG; SAN GENG; THREE EXTREMES; THREE)

Three more short stories from a trio of Asian filmmakers, including Kim Ji-Woon - director of THE QUIET FAMILY and A BITTERSWEET LIFE.

Ji-Woon's MEMORIES kicks things off. A man (Bo-seok Jeong) sleeps on a settee in his sparse apartment living room area, the minimalist furniture playing like an advert for IKEA's dullest range.

As the man awakes, he focuses on a blue balloon floating eerily in the centre of the room. Surveying the room further, he's startled to see a woman crouched on the floor, quietly sobbing. The man watches her for a while, then cautiously switches a lamp on ... and the vision ends.

The man, we learn from his psychiatrist, is suffering from "separation disorder" - an extreme form of anxiety which has affected his memory and dreams ever since his wife walked out on him and their young daughter.

Meanwhile the wife (Hye-su Kim, THE RED SHOES) awakes in the middle of a quiet road. Assuming she has suffered from a fall, she finds a note on her with a telephone number scribbled across it. Having no recollection of who she is, she wanders through deserted streets to a cafe where she uses the public telephone to dial the number.

At this point, the husband returns to his apartment with his daughter and listens to his answer-machine - becoming certain that the breathing on one message belongs to his wayward spouse.

With a wife who can't remember her name and a husband who fails to recall why she left or where she went, the scene is set for a "will they, won't they be reunited" plot. But, with this being a Ji-Woon film, things are never going to stay that simple. Throw in harrowing nightmares, visions of the wife poking her own brains (as the shot used on the DVD cover illustrates) and close encounters with demented taxi drivers, and soon things move to more sinister waters as we discover what's REALLY happened.

MEMORIES is keenly photographed and makes interesting use of colour-filtered lighting (quite evocative of Argento at times). But it's also needlessly slow, filled out with abstract "dream" sequences and suffers from a "twist" ending that you'll have sussed way before it's denouement. Ultimately, Ji-Woon's insistence on having us guess whether the characters are having nightmares or regaining memories is contrived and tiresome. Lacking the humour of his feature works, this looks good but is lacking in substance.

Nonzee Nimibutr's THE WHEEL follows. A text intro clues us in on the cultural tradition of puppetry as entertainment on Asian soils, and speaks of the superstition that accompanied the doll of said craft. We learn that each doll was said to be cursed by it's rightful owner, and could be brought to life if the owner was crossed.

Our yarn begins with Master Tao (Komgrich Yuttiyong) laid up on his death bed, haunted by ghoulish visions of his own doll collection coming to life and terrorising him. In the meantime, the locals sit in groups and mourn his impending death while bickering over whether Tao's dreams should be taken seriously. Crucially, Nimibutr has focused on a period where his ancestors where beginning to question their old superstitious beliefs and embrace modern ways of thinking.

However, just to be on the safe side, a couple of villagers take Tao's dolls to a nearby lake and "drown" them.

The general scepticism within the community is challenged when Tao's quarters are burned to the ground under mysterious circumstances. With panic in the air, village leader Master Tong (Pongsanart Vinsiri, THE MAID) may have been the most cynical of them all, but he changes his viewpoint and vows to protect his people from the evil puppets ... but how?

THE WHEEL embraces its cultural references of old, painting a convincing picture of rural life in the past. It also employs a wonderful use of colour to flesh out the most peripheral scenes - transforming them from redundancy and into something that is stunning for the eye. The use of sound, too, is cleverly implemented - in many ways, THE WHEEL echoed the off-kilter ambience of ONIBABA.

It's the shortest film on offer here at only 31 minutes in length, but succeeds in holding the attention far better than the comparatively lame MEMORIES. I was pleasantly surprised by THE WHEEL, especially considering Nimibutr is best known as a producer (with credits such as THE EYE 2 and BANGKOK DANGEROUS).

GOING HOME, directed by Peter Ho-sun Chan (HE AIN'T HEAVY HE'S MY BROTHER), is the final instalment.

Yu (Leon Lai, SEVEN SWORDS; INFERNAL AFFAIRS 3) and his daughter attend a photographer's studio. Yu poses solemnly for a picture, while the girl declines the chance to be caught on camera.

Elsewhere, policeman Wai (Eric Tsang, INFERNAL AFFAIRS 2; INFERNAL AFFAIRS 3) and his son Cheung traverse barren streets with luggage in tow, making their way to their new apartment. Upon arrival, the janitor remarks that while they are moving in, everyone else seems to be moving out. I'm not surprised - the building looks cold, clinical and bereft of decor.

Also unsurprising is the revelation that Yu lives in the same block. Cheung becomes fascinated with watching the man and his daughter go about their business from across the balcony.

At one point, the boy catches glimpse of the man taking his wheelchair-bound wife for a stroll. In later scenes, we see Yu bathing his wife, talking affectionately to her as the daughter looks on, combing his wife's hair and so on. But something is not right here, as Wai eventually discovers ... to his peril.

Like the two previous stories, GOING HOME is visually arresting. In it's favour, it eschews the gimmicky camera trickery and needless MTV/CSI-type editing that make MEMORIES and THE WHEEL unscary and amateurish. Here is a more assured piece, not feeling the need to resort to such filmschool-esque distractions.

Okay, things get a bit mental in the third act, but overall GOING HOME is a restrained psychological piece that emerges as the strongest of the three propositions. The sparing use of colour, pained performances (Lai won an esteemed Taiwan Golden Horse Award for his efforts), widescreen compositions, book-ended scenes in the photographer's studio tying in with the central plot of people desperate to preserve life - it all adds up to a satisfying 51-minute ride with occasional shocks and inert sadness along the way.

Taking the three stories as a whole (123-minutes of plodding "scares", albeit beautifully photographed ones) it's watchable, but nowhere near as entertaining as THREE ... EXTREMES - which was actually filmed as a sequel to this original instalment, which has now been released over here as a sequel to it's own sequel ... confused?!

Tartan's 1.78:1 anamorphic transfer is generally good, but does show grain in a few night scenes. Otherwise, images are sharp in a reasonably clean print.

Audio is available in the original languages (this being a Korean/Japanese/Chinese co-production, there are various Asian languages on offer) in three formats - 2.0, 5.1 and 5.1 DTS. Each one, it must be said, is excellent - rousing, bassy stuff. Removable English subtitles do their job without cause for concern.

An attractive animated main menu gives access to rather dull static menus, including a scene-selection guide (16 chapters) and a very limited amount of extras. These are a grainy theatrical trailer with burnt-in subtitles, plus trailers for A BITTERSWEET LIFE, LADY VENGEANCE, PREMONITION, REINCARNATION, INFECTION and THREE ... EXTREMES).

Nothing great here. I'd only recommend it if you either (A) find it cheap, or (B) happen to be a Ji-Woon completist.

Review by Stu Willis