Train to Busan (2016), by Sang-ho Yeon, is one of the best entertainment movies I’ve seen, and it deals with zombies. From South Korea, it resembles pop pictures of the past (like Invasion of the Body Snatchers) in that it is character-rich and tells an actual story, without being over-plotted.

Gong Yoo plays a divorced father who is selfish and discourteous until he has to protect from the biting zombies his small daughter and her pregnant, supportive friend. The film has an outstanding child actor in Su-an Kim, and the action is exciting. Plus, Busan is poignant—something you don’t find every day in a non-artistic pop movie.

(In Korean with English subtitles)

A plane crash leaves alive only three people, who are now stranded for several months on an island owned by a recluse named Robinson (not Crusoe). The island is called Robinson too. One of the survivors, January Marlow, is the narrator of this a novel by Muriel Spark, Robinson (1958), and she I gather to be a conventional Catholic.

Among the themes of the book is Catholic tyranny, which has existed in history. Robinson the man (not January) is a Catholic tyrant, like Henry the Eighth in his later years. Unorthodox, he dislikes the material manifestations of Grace such as the rosary. But Robinson’s tyranny can go only so far. The other men, and survivors, on the island are Jimmie, who becomes January’s friend, and Tom Wells, who does not. Wells is an “occultist” who gets fresh with January and, later, even tries to kill her. Belief can be morally irrelevant—or relevant. (Another theme.)

Robinson speaks the obvious: “Human nature does not vary much.” It plainly does not on the man’s island. Spark, at any rate, intends this to be another of her novels that concern transcendent hope and truth. The characters anticipate being rescued from the island by a pomegranate boat which will arrive in August. What’s more, by and by the island begins to sink. As some of Spark’s sentences echo biblical language, the island she is no longer on somehow reminds January that “immediately all things are possible.” As, according to Scripture, they are with God.

I never finished reading Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, but I assume it has all the human appeal that pervades the Ang Lee film version of 1996.  Human feelings matter to Lee, a literate and painstaking artist, and Austen’s novel matters to Emma Thompson, who wrote the dandy screenplay.

This was Thompson’s time to shine.  She was intent on being true to Austen and lovably convincing in the role of Elinor Dashwood.  She evokes the state of suffering in silence well, and is nearly as poignant as the effective Kate Winslet (as Marianne Dashwood, a character I was slightly embarrassed by).  Other actors are extraordinary as well:  e.g. Elizabeth Spriggs as Mrs. Jennings.  Congrats to Patrick Doyle for his pleasant music.

Way to go on the adapting, Lee and Thompson.

Sense and Sensibility (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Benoit Jacquot‘s A Single Girl (1995), from France, focuses on the assuming of necessary responsibility (getting a job) when one is pregnant outside wedlock and the boyfriend is utterly unreliable. This is what young Valerie (Virginie Ledoyen) confronts. Marvelously directed as well as co-written by Jacquot, the movie shows the post-childbirth situation as less unsettled and arduous than it usually is; and is finally quite pleased with itself. I object. The film’s honesty lapses.

However, A Single Girl is a solid accomplishment in many ways. Ledoyen owns her role with sophistication. Other actors are also flawless. The film lacks the vigor and color of the finest French movies, though, everything from Devil in the Flesh to The Dreamlife of Angels. It is circumscribed art, but it is art.

(In French with English subtitles)

A police sergeant who is a Christian (Edward Woodward) is duly outraged by a truly pagan Scottish island, thinking a missing young girl might have been murdered there. The 1973 The Wicker Man is a fairly intelligent and intriguing entertainment but, to me, there is something cheap and offputting about it. This is due to the unnecessary female nudity the film offers (though some of it is necessary), especially that of Britt Ekland‘s body double. There is more to it than that, however, but what? Perhaps it’s because its depiction of human evil is too outre, too bizarre. I don’t know. All the same, Woodward’s acting is rivetingly true.