Korea is home to some of the finest films of our generation. Often beautiful, powerful and unashamedly graphic, movies from this particular part of the Far East offer a compelling riposte to the safe and friendly cinema of the West. Increasing in popularity since Chan-Wook Park’s incredible Vengeance Trilogy, Korean cinema has been consistent even before then, and the 1996 debut of Ki-duk Kim is a fine example of this.

Crocodile (Jae-hyeon Jo) is a homeless thug; unhinged and violent, he lives underneath a bridge by the Han River in Seoul with a young chewing-gum peddling boy and an old man. After saving a young woman, Hyun-Jung, from drowning due to a suicidal jump from the bridge, Crocodile shamefully uses her purely for his own sexual ratification. Rather than escaping however, the woman chooses to stay with Crocodile and a dysfunctional family bond develops between the foursome as a romance blossoms between the titular character and the woman he saved from certain death.

Utterly uncompromising in its portrayal of a Korean street life, Crocodile is a raw and honest tale of a disturbed but ultimately fragile and frustrated man. Despite being a serial rapist and uncontrollably violent, we really shouldn’t like Crocodile but by the film’s beautifully poetic denouement we can’t help but sympathise with him. Full credit, then, to Jae-hyeon Jo’s perfectly balanced performance and Ki-duk Kim’s superlative writing as he masterfully crafts a film around a truly loathsome character that eventually becomes the subject of audience compassion. Taking several twists and turns throughout, Crocodile hits hard often; frequent rape and violence occur without apology but it never becomes overly graphic or needlessly gratuitous. It’s controversial in its themes, but not in its representation of them and as such, Ki-duk Kim gives reason to the unspeakable crimes of its lead character rather than being a littering of tasteless titillation for the sake of it. It’s got a fair dash of natural humour as well. Jae-hong Ahn as the young boy who helps Crocodile make his money is a welcome break from the intenseness of the slums, and his performance safely belongs on the list of truly great child performances (with the pinnacle being Salvatore Cascio in Cinema Paradiso of course).

It’s not the prettiest film ever committed to celluloid, but then external beauty isn’t the point of Crocodile. The grimy underbelly of Seoul is at the forefront here, and it would be almost inappropriate for the film to look clean in its presentation. Being a student of fine art, it’s apparent that Ki-duk Kim offers a more cerebral expression of the medium as its beauty is found in his superb script and story rather than the way his debut looks on screen.

Raw in every sense of the word, Crocodile is another fine exponent of Korean cinema. Superbly scripted and acted, Ki-duk Kim’s seminal debut kicked off an incredible career in cinema for the man himself, and together with The Isle and Address Unknown, it remains one of his grittier efforts. His subsequent catalogue of movies is second to very few however, and if there was ever a reason to give Korean cinema a go, Ki-duk Kim is it.

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