Move Over, Hollywood, South Korea Is Eating Your Lunch

 

Squid Game

 

I have my issues with South Korean entertainment. For one thing, I can’t get used to the acting style. It sometimes feels that when gentle weeping is called for, the actor will bawl and wail to the heavens. When yelling is in the script, the actor screams loud enough to be heard in North Korea. Perhaps that’s not overacting, but just a cultural thing.

In any case, there is no output from a foreign country that I’ve enjoyed more than South Korea’s. Unlike recent American TV and movies, Korean shows usually feature characters I like. The country’s dramas and comedies have the power to make me do something Hollywood products do not: feel something.

Here are abridged reviews of 14 South Korean shows I’ve praised over the past 14 years. I gave all of them at least a “B” rating. Search the titles for my full reviews.

 

Squid Game

Squid Game has always been a flawed show. The villainous “V.I.P.s” are cartoonish. Some subplots feel like filler to justify three seasons of the series. But when the show is good, it is very, very good — better, methinks, than any other show I’ve watched in 2025.

Here’s what distinguishes Squid from its thematic forebears: Enough thought has been put into the characters so that, as a viewer, you will care about who wins and who loses. And each of the six deadly children’s games the participants are asked to endure is tense and exciting.  

Grade: A-

 

*

 

You Are My Spring

 

You Are My Spring

Maybe it’s because at heart I am a teenage girl, partial to bubble-gum rock and cheesy horror movies, but I liked the show. There’s no question that at times Spring veers into sappiness. The romantic leads, playing characters who are in their 30s, often behave as though they are 13-year-olds in the throes of puppy love. These scenes are sometimes cute, sometimes silly. Yet when the genre-blending series concentrates on its central romance — and even on some secondary romances involving supporting characters — it is sweet and often funny. Grade: A-

 

*

 

Parasite

I enjoyed Parasite, in which a rich family is infiltrated by a clan of con artists — think Al Bundy and his goofball brood from Married … with Children, but with Korean faces and street smarts. The movie’s elaborate con and the ensuing carnage are all amusing enough but … is it one of the “best films of the century”? Nope. Not even close. Grade: B

 

*

 

#Alive

 

#Alive

I was attracted to the premise of #Alive, a zombie flick from Korea in which a young man wakes up to discover that the world outside his upper-floor apartment is overrun by snarling brain-eaters. This isn’t as good as the similar-themed I Am Legend, or Korea’s manic Train to Busan, but it will do on a boring Saturday night. Grade: B

 

*

 

Burning

 

Burning

Until its ending, which I thought was unnecessarily ambiguous, Burning felt like a Korean version of Hitchcock’s Vertigo. A young man (Ah-in Yoo) falls in love with a free-spirited girl (Jong-seo Jun) in the first half of the film and then, after the girl vanishes, he spends the second half engaged in an obsessive search that leads to some very dark places. But until that abrupt and unsatisfying ending, the movie is compelling and filled with haunting images.  Grade: B+

 

*

 

Train to Busan

 

Train to Busan

It’s refreshing to find a snark-free, sarcasm-free story — like time traveling back to 1950s Hollywood for wholesome, goofy fun but with modern special effects. Busan is non-stop entertaining, with heroes who are clearly good and villains who do all but wear black hats when passengers on a high-speed train do battle with zombies. Grade: B+

 

*

 

The Wailing

 

The Wailing

Locals begin committing bizarre crimes after a mysterious Japanese man moves to their South Korean village, and it’s up to some unsophisticated cops to investigate. The good news: The movie is well-shot, and the final half-hour is both scary and surprising. (Think you’ve figured out the twist? Think again.) The bad news: You do have to sit through two hours of standard-issue horror to reach that entertaining wrap-up.  Grade: B

 

*

 

Flu

Here’s a big, dumb, special-effects-heavy disaster pic from Korea, inspired by big, dumb, special-effects-heavy disaster pics from Hollywood, but featuring that peculiar Korean mash-up of 1950s wholesomeness and modern sensibilities (the heroine is a single-mother virologist). Grade: B-

 

*

 

Oldboy

Korean director Park Chan-wook’s trippy revenge-mystery doesn’t always make sense, and it’s a tad too long, but it’s hard to take your eyes off the screen.  And a twist near the end is a real whopper.  Grade:  B+

 

*

 

The Host

The Host, South Korean director Bong Joon-ho’s homage to 1950s monster-from-hell B movies, is a strange brew of slapstick comedy and serious, environmental commentary.  But I also thought that the story, in which a polluted river gives birth to an ill-tempered beast, was consistently entertaining.  Grade: B+

 

*

 

The Housemaid

 

The Housemaid

This erotic thriller promises to deliver the mother of all Korean catfights.  It doesn’t quite come through, but watching the four female leads as they lie, scheme, and shift loyalties makes for some ticklish good fun in director Im Sang-soo’s remake of a 1960 Korean classic. Grade: B

 

*

 

The Good, the Bad, the Weird

 

The Good, the Bad, the Weird

Although the film is a bit on the long side (130 minutes), The Good, the Bad, the Weird is a screwball Western for people (like me) who think they burned out on Westerns a long time ago.  Grade: B+

 

*

 

Mother

This isn’t Hitchcock-level material, but Mother does contain some nice surprises, a colorful cast, and a fascinating glimpse at one segment of Korean society.  Grade: B

 

*

 

Money Heist

Korea’s remake of a hit Spanish show. I enjoyed both versions. I gave the edge to Korea’s version because I thought the actresses were hotter. Sue me. Grade: B

 

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Edited by John Belton

 

I believe I have an answer to this old poser: If you were stranded on a deserted island and could have just one book/movie/song, what would you choose?

I’d probably opt for my favorite director’s 1954 crowd-pleaser, Rear Window. It’s wildly entertaining, deeper than surface level, and epitomizes 1950s Hollywood glamour. As far as I’m concerned, it contains James Stewart’s and Grace Kelly’s finest work.

Belton has compiled essays on every aspect of Alfred Hitchcock’s thriller: the fascinating set design, the fashion statements, a feminist perspective on the story, contemporary film reviews, etc.

The most impressive thing to me about this movie is how well it holds up. One of my favorite YouTube pastimes is checking out “first-time watching” videos, in which young people, usually in their 20s, record their reactions to — you guessed it — first-time viewings of classic films. Judging from their delighted experiences, I’m guessing more than a few of them would consider taking Rear Window to their deserted islands.

 

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Tim Pool

 

Tim Pool’s a fascinating podcaster to watch. His brain works at warp speed, and so does his mouth. He seems to demolish opponents simply on the strength of assertiveness and, just as crucial, the quickness of his brain. His rapid-fire comments often fluster whoever he’s talking to.

But here’s the thing. Speed doesn’t always equate to correct. Just because he’s able to whip out an argument does not mean it’s gospel. Speed is a debate technique to throw off your foe. Skill can trump substance. (Think back to Johnnie Cochran during the O.J. Simpson trial.)

This would be an interesting test: Ask Pool to debate a political issue with someone on the left, but with a twist — the debate has to be in writing.

 

*

 

Don’t get me wrong: I am a fan of Pool. I usually agree with his politics, but not always.

Something that bothers me about Pool (and cohost Phil Labonte): Pool makes a living discussing controversial issues. But rarely does he lose his cool. An exception is when anyone makes the mistake of attacking capitalism in general — specifically the rich.

You get the feeling that capitalism is near and dear to Pool’s heart because he’s newly rich, himself. He is driven and instinctively hostile to anyone or anything that threatens his ambition. That’s fine, as far as it goes.

But Pool and Labonte are too dismissive of a real problem: the outrageous income inequality in America. The vast majority of people cannot simply “work harder” to succeed, as Pool advocates.

You can defend capitalism, which has been good to you, while at the same time acknowledging that it badly needs reform. Pool and Labonte would rather shoot the messengers than consider solutions to the problem.

 

**

 

Nice to see the Supreme Court snipping off the balls of rogue, liberal judges — at least for now.

 

**

 

YouTube ads have gotten a lot worse. Speaking of Pool, for years he eschewed any kind of ads. Then he began hawking his coffee. Then he began reading canned promos at the beginning of his show. Meanwhile, YouTube company ads are also interrupting the show. This is not limited to Pool’s show. It’s everywhere on YouTube. Enough already.

 

**

 

TV Tidbit

 

 

Dept. Q is a pretty good cop show. It doesn’t hold up to Netflix gems of the past like Ozark, Peaky Blinders, or The Crown, but I recommend it.

 

**

 

 

True and False

 

True

I once asked my elderly aunt (now deceased), a woman who never wed, what she thought about marriage. She told me that she could imagine no better state of affairs than a happy marriage. But she quickly added that she could imagine no worse state of affairs than an unhappy marriage.

Sounds right to me.

 

False

Feminists perpetuate the fiction that women “can have it all.”

Sounds like bullshit. In life, for men and women, success is not (usually) about winning or losing. It’s about trade-offs. Yes, you can have this; but if you do, you can’t have that.

 

**

 

A.O.C.

 

 

Are any of the following pics real, or are they A.I.?

 

 

And finally, there is this:

 

 

 

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Brute 1976

 

I was well into Brute 1976, a new homage to young-people-in-peril slashers like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, when I realized something was missing from the film.

Most of the ingredients were present: foolhardy young people, an isolated location in the sticks, and a family of … uh, colorful villains. But something was lacking.

Pros: The movie has a nice, 1970s look and setting, perfectly in harmony with Chain Saw, The Hills Have Eyes, or any number of other such cult fodder. There is one scene involving a prosthetic appendage and a glory hole that, well, you can imagine. Or you don’t want to. There is a bevy of attractive actresses.

Cons: You’ve seen it all before. The only update, I guess, is the inclusion of a trans person in the clan of wackos who make life miserable for the young folk.

I finally realized what was missing. There was no nudity. In the 1970s and 1980s, movies like this one always featured gratuitous skin. Did “intimacy coordinators” put the kibosh on naked ladies?

 

Montalvo

 

But it turns out I was wrong. I rewound to the opening of the film in which two cuties explore an abandoned cave and — lo and behold — Bianca Jade Montalvo, a 5’9″ actress with all of two film credits on her IMDB page, does indeed get naked. But it was too damned dark to see her in the cave. And is she really … oh, never mind; I get in enough trouble these days.

For your viewing pleasure, I lightened the scene. Click on any pic for a larger view:

 

 

Release: 2025  Grade: C-

 

Would I watch it again?  Now that I’ve gotten my nudity fix, probably not.

 

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by Alex Michaelides

 

Painter Alicia Berenson seems to have it all: a successful career and a happy marriage. Until one evening when she shoots dead her husband — and then remains mute for the years that follow. Can psychotherapist Theo Faber get the enigmatic Alicia to open up about what happened that fateful night?

As I read Michaelides’s debut novel, I was put in mind of the 1944 movie, Laura. Instead of watching the film’s detective fall in love with an apparently dead woman, we experience narrator Faber’s obsession with his living, but silent, patient. Is Faber falling for Alicia? Is something else afoot?

The thing about fictional twists is this: If you buy into the story as a whole, you’re more likely to accept what might otherwise seem far-fetched. You can be gobsmacked by plot reveals. If you don’t buy into the story, the twists can feel like cheating.

I found The Silent Patient intriguing enough. If I ever re-read it, I might discover plot problems; as it is, I thought the book was clever. I got gobsmacked.

 

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No review today. My older sister, Kathie, died last night. That’s her in the middle in the picture above, along with my other sister and me. The photo below is from her college days.

To say she made an impact on the people in her life would be a major understatement.

Rest in peace, big sister.

 

 

 

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The Long (Miserable) Weekend

 

Friday the 13th certainly kicked off a horrific weekend, at least for me.

Tomorrow I’m flying to Florida to see a gravely ill relative, perhaps for the last time.

A few miles from here, a “No Kings” protest (riot?) is about to commence.

The shooting of lawmakers (above) occurred this morning in the suburb where I work my 9-5 job, just a few miles from where I sit typing this review.

It’s gray and drizzly outside.

How is your weekend?

 

**

 

 

**

 

Setting aside depressing news for a minute, let’s see what Sabrina Carpenter is up to. I have no idea who she is. A singer, I guess. But she seems to want my attention:

 

 

**

 

Speaking of selling sex, why does Hollywood have a thing against pubic hair on starlets?

Below are clips of an actress named Kate Groombridge in a movie called Virgin Territory. First, I’ve posted the final scene. Next, I’ve posted the raw, original scene which did not make the final cut — apparently because of Groombridge’s pussy hair.

 

 

 

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A.I. Pride Month!

 

People I respect — mostly intellectuals and Neanderthals — are insisting that it’s just a matter of time before artificial intelligence puts an end to us. That’s depressing.

I’d rather focus on the joys of A.I. For instance, I like the pictures it makes for me. I asked it to create a picture of a haunted house, and it gave me this:

 

 

 

I asked it to describe The Grouchy Editor, and it came up with this, which we thought was rather flattering:

 

 

Then I got horny and began thinking of Lauren Cohan, an actress I’ve admired since The Walking Dead premiered many years ago.

 

 

I had never seen a good picture of her butt. The closest she came to showing me her butt was in a 2006 movie called Van Wilder: The Rise of Taj, where we all got to see this:

 

 

Those panties are pretty flimsy. You can clearly see the contours of Lauren’s gluteus maximus. Surely, A.I. could erase those panties? I made a request and got this:

 

 

See how wonderful A.I. can be?

At least until it destroys us.

 

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Like Joe Biden, I have prostate cancer. 

Joe Biden doesn’t know me, does not feel sorry for me.

I don’t know Joe Biden, but I do know of him. I don’t feel sorry for him.

I’m sure there are many elderly men in our prisons suffering from cancer. No one feels sorry for them.

Joe Biden belongs in a cell along with those elderly prisoners.

 

**

 

Democrat Woes

 

 

My unsolicited advice to Democrats trying to appeal to, presumably, straight young men: Tell idiots like Pedro Pascal to sit down and shut up.

 

 

 

**

 

I’ve been watching Sherlock & Daughter. I had hopes for pure, escapist fun.

Silly me.

The most recent episode featured a young man attempting to impress Daughter by taking her to a women’s suffrage meeting. At said meeting Daughter proceeded to lecture young man about the harsh treatment of indigenous peoples in America and Australia.

I half expected her to bring up global warming, even though the show takes place in the 19th century.

You cannot escape wokeness.

 

 

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Poker Face

 

Lately, I keep seeing movies and TV shows that are pretty good …  but not great.

Here is a sampling from the past week, along with my humble opinions on what went wrong with the shows. Hint: It’s rarely bad acting or direction; it’s usually a problem with the script or story development.

 

Poker Face, season two

 

I enjoyed Natasha Lyonne in season one. Critics loved the return to a format out of fashion since Columbo went off the air: We see the crime and offender in the first 15 minutes, then watch as our heroine solves the mystery. It’s not a whodunit, but rather a how-will-she-catch-the-culprit.

Season one felt fresh, a welcome throwback to rumpled, lovable Peter Falk’s Columbo. Charlie (Lyonne), also lovable and rumpled, saw that justice was done.

What went wrong — Columbo was deceptively sharp. He lulled his prey into a false sense of security and then, relying on his little grey cells, nailed the bad guy. Charlie, on the other hand, relies on a gimmick: her “bullshit” detector. For some absurd reason, she always recognizes the big lie. That’s gotten old. Another problem: like Columbo, Charlie is comical. But the humor is too over-the-top now, including random shootouts and chases with bad guys who are out to get our girl.

 

 

The Changeling

 

George C. Scott plays a widower living in a haunted house near Seattle. Roger Ebert had this to say in 1980: “Scott makes the hero so rational, normal and self-possessed that we never feel he’s in real danger; we go through this movie with too much confidence.”

Sorry, Roger, but I disagree. I thought it was refreshing to shake up the usual ghost-story set-up — young, trembling female terrorized by evil spirits — and instead, give us a cantankerous, middle-aged man. If George C. Scott is unsettled, is it any wonder that the audience is, too? The first hour of the movie is scary-good fun.

What went wrong — When George leaves the house in the second half of the film, the story goes off the rails. (I, too, frequently go off the rails by resorting to cliches like “off the rails.” But I digress.)

None of us know what happens after death. When screenwriters attempt to explain too much, their answers are usually far-fetched.

They should have left George in the house.

 

 

Black Bag

 

Here is director Steven Soderbergh lamenting the box-office failure of his clever black comedy about British spies: “This is the kind of film I made my career on. And if a mid-level budget, star-driven movie can’t seem to get people over the age of 25 years old to come out to theatres — if that’s truly a dead zone — then that’s not a good thing for movies. What’s gonna happen to the person behind me who wants to make this kind of film?”

Black Bag has clever dialogue, good acting, and an amusing plot.

What went wrong — I’m not sure. I suspect the fact that the characters, although interesting, are not particularly likeable, might have something to do with it.

 

**

 

 

Enough critical nit-picking. Let’s praise something. Let’s praise a girl who knows how to shake things up.

Apparently, the angle above wasn’t sufficiently close to Ary Tenorio’s buttocks. So they tried it again:

 

 

**

 

 

I can carp all day about the dangers of “third-stage feminism,” but only a (relatively) young, attractive woman can get by with truth-telling like this.

 

 

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