Watch Painted Fire For Free

How sad is this?

best movie i've ever seen.

When a movie has you begging for it to end not even half way through it's pure crap. We've all seen this movie and this characters millions of times, nothing new in it. Don't waste your time.

Although I seem to have had higher expectations than I thought, the movie is super entertaining.

Nobody, least of all me, will argue about the visual beauty of this film. It is very well done with majestic scenes of nature as well as tight claustrophobic shots of a tormented man at work in his shuttered studio. As a period piece it comes across as very authentic, and I give it high marks for its sets & costumes. So why didn't I like "Painted Fire"? Because I feel if you're going to do a film about an artist (or musician or writer or poet), of utmost importance is to convey exactly what drove, inspired and influenced the artist.Excellent examples include "Amadeus" (1984) which showed Mozart being propelled by arrogance and perhaps moreso by his need to please and/or escape his domineering father. Or "Frida" (2002) shows that Frida's Kahlo's grotesque, often self-deprecating sexual paintings were the result of her dysfunctional romance and sexual subversion by her husband/mentor Diego. These films seek to explain the idiosyncrasies of the artists' works by digging deep into the personality, the psychology and the philosophies that drove the artist. That's why I like to watch films about artists--to get insight that we don't learn from textbooks.Here in "Painted Fire" it felt more like a textbook reading of the life of Ohwon. It shows his base beginnings as an orphan who, in adolescence, joins the house of an aristocrat. Abruptly jumping ahead 20 years, it shows him as a frustrated drunk. He fights hard to divest himself of his vulgar origins but always swings back to his uncooth nature (drinking, womanizing). But why? What made him act the way he did? And how did it imprint the themes of his art? Not much of a connection is made; the man is shown to suffer from demons, but we are never shown what these demons are nor how they influenced his art. There are a few scenes where a peripheral character is whispering in the background about the symbolism in Ohwon's art ("The bird symbolizes freedom..."), but that's more of a broad cultural analysis rather than an analysis of Ohwon's psyche.I am a fan of Ohwon's paintings and have always been hypnotized by how beautifully he painted animals and the majesty of trees. In my mind I fashioned a painter who found great solace and order in nature while conspicuously avoiding human subjects. This could have been a great point to investigate in the film. Did he love animals? Did he fear humanity? None of this is in the film, and none of his paintings are explained. We just see a drunk, crass man who possesses a rare artistic talent. What a missed opportunity.Again, contrast this against, say, a scene in "Immortal Beloved" where Beethoven's reclusive genius is exposed as the result of his shame of being deaf and struggling to keep it secret. At the same time Beethoven is shown to have a great capacity to love, but explosively bitter when love is unrequited. In a scene he loses the love of his life because his carriage gets stuck in the mud on a stormy night, and as we watch the man's torment we hear his music "Apassionata" in conjunction with the frantic beating of the horses' hooves. Every work of art has its particular motive, and it's always fun to learn what that motive is."Painted Fire" does not give us motive. It left all my questions about Ohwon unanswered, presenting only a visual representation of what I already read in biographies. It gives us a good feel for what it was like to be alive in Korea in the late 1800s, it paints the culture and political unrest of a nation in flux. But none of this really seems to affect Ohwon. He is just a particle awash in this cinematic sea.I can definitely see how it would win at Cannes because, on a technical level it should wow any film connoisseur. But on a literary level--meaning the act of telling a story and theme--it did not satisfy me. For that, I return to the works of Kurosawa, Teshigahara and even modern Asian masters like Takeshi Kitano, because I love their ability to incorporate cinematic prowess with the poetry of thought. "Painted Fire" was not an unpleasant experience, but I can't say it did anything exceptionally good for me.

It is not surprising that this film was made by I'm Kwon Taek at the time it was. He examined the early beauty and tragedy of Chosun Dynasty life in Seopyonje and delightfully explored a well-known Korean folk tale in Chunhyang, and these comprised his last two films. What is most surprising is that Chi Hwa Seon, his 2002 offering, is not presented in the pansori style of those previous two films.Nonetheless, the experienced hand of I'm comes through. We explore together the life of a real person: a late nineteenth century Chosun Dynasty painter who rides on the edge of modernity but who is not a noble and who, because of that, causes a stir in contemporary Korean society with his fame and his public and artistic expressions of disdain for the old Korean noble class and his contempt for would-be Japanese ruling colonials alike. The painter, Chang Seung Up, known popularly as Oh Won (performed magnificently by Choi Min Sik, the famous star of Park Chan Wook's already legendary "OldBoy") becomes more and more influential and therefore more dangerous throughout the film. Contemporary Korean audiences will back a hero like this despite the fact, or maybe because of the fact, that he was so ostracized in his time. I'm's sense of simultaneous beauty and tragedy in history remains intact. I'm is a master at capturing his country's past idiosyncrasies, and in this film he almost outdoes himself. As expected in an I'm film, the cinematography is breathtaking, the editing is precise and the story is central.Plots are set against Seung Up, family ties are tested and broken, scandalous behavior is alleged (and is sometimes real), all to bring down the man who "painted fire." But against all the intricacies of I'm's detailed but sometimes convoluted account of Seung Up's life, Seung Up himself somehow manages to survive. He becomes legendary because of his ability to perfectly copy famous Chinese paintings after only one look. Art dealers and agents then besiege him and try to make money off "Oh Won." In other words, lines of people, who wish to take advantage of the real Seung Up, an artistic star, begin to form. But he refuses to be manipulated. His cleverness in staving off both the massive hordes and the imperial lackeys impresses the audience, if not the cast. What does Seung Up think? He possesses powerful emotions and opinions about painting, such as the aesthetic belief that paintings are living things and are never truly finished. He despises those who would try to turn art into profit. And he cares not for politicians who use their might to bring artistic beauty around them and then cast off the artist as traitorous. But he also thinks that painting plays a role in the coming upheavals. Horrid scenes involving foreign invaders from France and Japan are presented. I'm's signature historical epic motif, and his influence in the realm, remains on prominent display in this multi-million dollar epic. The protagonist causes greater grief for himself and those who care for him when he refuses to paint. This is when the story takes on a whole new meaning, one that is not just political, but social in nature. I'm takes on the issues in laudable realist fashion. He, Oh Won, becomes a Jesus figure. The people believe him capable of artistic miracles and the government feels it needs his artistic support, but the protagonist remains fiercely independent and contemptuous of what others want him to do or be. Eventually, both government and people come down upon Seung Up in a manner taken straight out of the Bible. His holiness becomes human; his humanity is not accepted; he dies for (or escapes from) the sins of the commoners, the art critics, the politicians, who hound him. But does he die? As with most of I'm's films, a question remains. In this case, does Seung Up really become an immortal hermit? The film does not tackle that question; it merely presents a possible end for the real man of Chang Seung Up, or Oh Won. No death is depicted because no death is known. It is difficult to find fault with this film, but I'm has become so good at presenting various historical absurdities in his culture that when he does, it hardly surprises anymore. As usual for I'm's films, the cinematography, the editing and the writing are all first rate. It's a well-crafted film imbued with I'm's uncanny story-telling ability. Granted, he may be best at doing this through the ancient Korean musical art of pansori. Still, the film contains stretches of this admirable art form, and by the end, viewers feel as if they have become privy to a great, untold story. And they have, because that, precisely, is I'm's gift.

The fire gives all... This is one of film's most masterful meditations on artistry. Set in 19th century Korea it tells the story of the famous painter Ohwon, but rather than stick to saucy anecdote, melodrama, or psychological egg hunting, it portrays a series of episodes throughout his life, all of which are beautiful works of art in themselves. It gives no interpretation of these episodes, but leaves them for the viewer to ponder along with the paintings of Ohwon himself. In this way, the viewer enters into the same sort of contemplation as Ohwon, and minus his talent can "feel" their way into the inspiration of his paintings. Part of why this is so effective is the utterly masterful evocation of 19th century Korea and the musical/artistic world that Ohwon moved in. There are so many gorgeous shots of the world outside the paintings that we get a mirror effect where we see the beautiful world inspiring Ohwon, Ohwon living and looking in that world, and the works of art he creates, all mirroring off one another. The story is told with extreme economy. A feeling evoked is hardly ever lingered with or explained, it just appears quickly then is gone for the next one to appear. As an analogy it is a sort of Mozartian work of art (endless and quick succession of great ideas) rather than Beethovinian (Obsessive lingering on one great idea). It has a classical restraint, much like Ohwon's paintings. There is really no music hinting how to feel except a few classical Korean pieces used with great effectiveness in several scenes (and mostly played by characters in the movie). One haunting image, if I remember correctly, is of a flock of birds soaring away over the blue mountains while a female singer croons"This life is like a dream, and only death will awaken us" One telling line of advice in the film, from one of Ohwon's teachers, is that "the painting lies between the strokes." The film follows that attitude as there is so much matter *between* what is spoken and described in the film. I have seen it twice and it was very rewarding on the second viewing. A very terse film, with little in the way of obvert explanation, one could see how it is Im's 96th film. It is an artistic masterwork. Like Ohwon's great friend and mentor tells him in describing one of his paintings, "Not a single stroke is wasted." I compare it to Andrei Rubylev in quality, though in style it is very different. It is much easier and more directly entertaining to watch, but classical in form where Andrei is gothic. All in all highly recommended to almost anyone except appetite junkies. Both times I left the film I felt a wonderful spiritual renewal. One point of Ohwon's life that intruiged me was that his mad drinking and raving began suddenly after visiting the noble who told him that "Good art can come only from great knowledge and learning." The next brief scene Ohwon was very angry, and the next blasted drunk as he often remained for the remainder of the film. I am curious why the nobles words effected him so much and drove him to the drinking that dominated the rest of his life. Or was it just a coincidence?

Chi-hwa-seong (Painted Fire) recounts the life of Korean painter Jang Seong-ub amidst the changing political landscape of late 19th century Korea.However, the themes of this film center around the process of artistic creation through the fire of desire of the artist and the expectations and demands of their audience and society.Jang seong-ub is played masterfully as a complex character who changes from the innocent excitement of youth to a hardened alcoholic tortured soul. This characterization mirrors the young eager artist that finds it more and more difficult to invoke the spirit of artistic creation within himself without letting the creative fire out via drink, erections, and desire.Although this character development proceeds overall gradually through the film, the emotional complexity of Jang is still played in a constantly oscillating manner building to the films' finale. Interestingly, the montage of the film parallels this constantly changing and seemingly wild emotion or fire of the artist as scenes seamlessly transition from one time and location to another without any conventional 'cues' to the audience that such a scene change will occur. For example, many scenes would change seemingly in mid conversation picking up at another point and location. The visual scenery of the film is presented beautifully and also oscillates from stark (and perhaps bleak) black and white scenery to more colorful and alive environments that again parallel the paintings of Jang either in simple black ink on white paper or with color added. Rainbows of color enter the film at points as the artist observes nature and especially women that then become reflected in his paintings.The theme of an artist's individual desire to create versus the expectations and demands of society arises in the film through various points including class distinction, the domination of government over the artist, the accepted norms of the artistic elite, and the base desires of the common masses. Instead of creating his own completely original works, Jang finds himself mostly recreating masterpieces of other artists throughout East Asia. The question thus arises if recreation itself deserves artistic merit.I wish that I was more familiar with the political events of the period to firmly grasp how they tied into the story - but beyond any comparison to the current role of Korean government in artistic expression and/or censorship I cannot comment.Overall an extremely well acted film and the cinematography is often breathtaking. A great film to see and then ponder over.