The exponential surge of South Korean cinema has most recently culminated in the the global recognition of Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite. Although the New Korean Cinema movement in the late 90s ushered in the era of the peninsula’s relevance on the cinematic landscape, it also became increasingly well-known for visceral and psychological revenge thrillers like Oldboy and I Saw the Devil. South Korea also quickly made its mark on the gangster genre, churning out classics like Friend, A Bittersweet Life, and New World, arguably taking the mantle of gangster flick capital of the world dominated by the Hong Kong triads in the 80s and 90s.
Sunflower, much less ostentatious than its more well-known peers, is a hidden and often forgetten gem among Korean gangster movies. The story follows Oh Tae-sik, freshly released from prison, and he goes back to his small town and visits a middle-aged lady he calls “mother”, and her daughter. It is quickly apparent that he isn’t related to them by blood, and there is some mysterious past connection or understanding between him and the mother. Tae-sik wants to live a normal life, but has trouble escaping his violent past.
The details of his past aren’t immediately clear, with a few breadcrumbs being doled out little by little. There is no one single contrived expository scene here. The Tae-sik we see is a gentle, demure, and almost slow-witted man. Even as the people around him gossip about his past and his legendary violence, we almost don’t believe them because it seems so impossible to reconcile that image with the perenially apologetic, bashful young man in front of us.
Instead of worrying about these rumors, Tae-sik concerns himself with rehabilitating his life and devoting himself to those around him. He carries a little notebook with him everywhere he goes, in which he writes simple goals and three rules for himself. He has difficulty winning over his “sister”, who initially seems like a bullying My Sassy Girl archetype. But they begin to genuinely bond; she comes to respect him and he cares for her. Their family picnic is the pinnacle of his happiness and his relationship with his adopted family, when the sister finally opens up to him and fully trusts him.
His three rules for himself are: “I’ll never drink again. I’ll never fight again. I’ll never cry again.” These are tested to their limits throughout the movie. When a bunch of teenage hoodlums start causing trouble with his sister, we’ve seen enough movies to know that this is the moment when he beats them up and shows us what he’s capable of. Instead, he doesn’t fight back at all, and the teenagers only stop when his shirt rips open and they see his body covered with gang tattoos that he quickly tries to cover up. Later, when actual gangsters show up at his workplace to rough him up, he still remains defensive, only using his body as a shield to protect his boss. It is inspired character development – instead of showing us his fighting abilities, these scenes show us the lengths he is willing to go to keep his promise and his new life.
When the third act rolls around, enough has happened to his family that he has no other choice. Tae-sik has sacrificed and done everything he could to try to live the peaceful life he desired and protect his loved ones. He is backed into a corner with no other options, and the person to whom he had kept his promises is no longer there. He was a man with a second chance, but he’s become a man who has lost everything. The final set piece is largely in slow motion surrounded by fire and water, symbolizing his inner rage and sadness – he is finally crying – because it is less about the action and more a reflection of his emotional state.
It might seem strange to think that a crime/gangster film has essentially one fight scene, at the very end. But the director, Kang Seok-beom (a relative unknown whose last film was over a decade ago) delights in subverting the tropes we have been conditioned to expect, from the action and violence, to the expected romance between him and the sister. Most films set up like this are about vengeance, but Sunflower is more interested in atonement and redemption.
Sunflower works because it is a simple story that is committed to the bitter end. There are some compelling through lines here, including the idea that “if you commit a sin, you should be punished.” But the central theme is that redemption is possible through the forgiveness of others and your own resolve. The mother’s kindness and reconciliation is what gives Tae-sik the opportunity for a new life, but in addition to accepting that forgiveness, it takes thorough commitment to welcome real change in your life. And there are few films as committed as Sunflower.
