Night Bloomers Review Creepy Korean Australian Horror Series Will Leave You Wanting More
Anthology works are inherently whimsical and require dramatic diction that is narrative but consistent in tone and atmosphere. This goal is perfectly achieved in two of my favorite Australian anthologies: Tracy Moffat's horror trilogy Bedeville (the first film directed by an Indigenous Australian) and Tim Winton's long and varied adaptation The Turn. This is also done well in the SBS series Night Flowers, a collection of five short horror films written and directed by Andrew Ondy Lee, in which each mini-episode highlights a different aspect of the Korean-Australian immigrant experience.
In terms of design and execution, the work has been characterized as “high horror” – a euphemism for the eternal debate about “high” and “low” art. The purpose of this story is to distinguish this experience from more carnivalesque and joyful experiences, and its messages can be seen through a thick layer of symbolism, some relatively obvious and others difficult for many. This is partly because they are immersed in Korean culture, and partly because the script can be deliberately twisted and filled with moments that are not intended to shock, but rather to make the audience go "Hmm...".
All sorts of strange events are scattered throughout the almost hour-long performance: from the appearance of a round blue-skinned goblin to the rituals of the dead and various frightening visions. In each clip, a dancer dressed in traditional Korean hanbok performs a purification dance against a black background (according to the director), which is intended to "untie the knot between the living and the human and banish evil from the world." "Dead." It's a nice anchoring element that adds mystery to the film and brings the audience back into a meditative state of mind, a sort of perceptual and emotional state.
But each vignette ended too quickly, leaving me wanting more. This speaks to Lee's ability to quickly draw the audience into tense scenes and his sense of the unfinished nature of Night Bloomer.
The first episode, "Shock Hairpin," follows Sophie Rae Chapman, who moves from rural Australia to inner-city Sydney and tries to reconnect with her Korean heritage. His efforts are awkward as he tries to cook Korean food for his white friends who know more about cooking than him.
Later, Sophie visits a Korean grocery store and becomes attracted to one of its employees. All this intrigue begs the question: where is this going? And: what horror awaits you? No spoilers, suffice it to say that Chapman's impressive performance reflects a growing frustration with eventually finding an outlet, and not in a good way.
After voting
In "Passing On," 65-year-old So Min (Young Shin Lee) and her daughter Hana (Helen Kim) hold a funeral for So Min's mother on the first anniversary of her death, fearing that otherwise they would be in her spirit end up. it will be damaged. Not "I'm going crazy and losing forever." That's all well and good, but is that ring really sliding down the hallway with a monstrous slave relative in the background?
Friend or foe summons the aforementioned Imam, who appears before the Collector with a dangerously insatiable appetite. As shown in The Second Coming, for reasons I don't want to reveal, the two paramedics chose their profession for very specific reasons; I found this vignette a bit forced and strange. The rest of the episode, Jacking Souls, involves an overly strict father, a rebellious teenager, and a monstrous creature.
Lee and the writers (Lee, Ray Chapman, Susan So Hyun Kim and Jacob Holmes Brown) keep the dramatic scenarios relatively simple but manage them well without resorting to horror elements for quick and dirty scares. The reward is not always obvious and the ending can be unpredictable; On the other hand, no episode stretches or bites out more than it can chew.
