In Manok, director-writer Lee Yu-jin brings to the forefront a demographic less represented in by commercial comedy films – queer middle-aged women. Combining the humour of mainstream Korean comedies with the sincerity of independent cinema, Lee’s debut feature is another step forward in diversifying the Korean queer narratives told on the big screen.
Jang Ma-nok (Yang Mal-bok, in a radical departure from her role in The Apartment with Two Women) is a much-respected figure and bar owner in Seoul’s lesbian scene. But after her estranged mother’s death, Manok leaves behind her girlfriend and the neon-lit streets of Seoul for her rural hometown of Ibanri, where a traffic jam consists of a scooter-riding ahjumma stuck behind a tractor. Despite the quaint lifestyle and picturesque rural landscape of Ibanri (captured with a fitting vibrance by cinematographer Noh Da-hae), dissatisfaction is brewing among the townspeople fed up by the selfish town chief (Park Wan-kyu) — who also happens to be Manok’s ex-husband. Deciding to run for the position of town chief herself, Manok connects with the main residents of Ibanri, including the town chief’s kid, Jae-yeon (Sung Jae-yun). Jae-yeon navigates being a trans man in a village which is far both geographically and culturally from the openly queercommunities in Seoul.
The premise sounds serious on paper, but in execution Manok is persistently energetic and upbeat, all without glossing over the everyday discrimination against LGBTIQA+ people in Korea. Manok’s dips into off-beat parody and comedic set pieces efficiently tie together humour, social commentary and character building,One such notable example is when Manok runs into her ex-husband for the first time with a dramatic entrance in a local restaurant. Manok’s sly confidence, the exaggerated camera work, and twangs in the soundtrack bring to mind tropes around western outlaws, at once denoting Manok’s rebellious spirit and ostracisation by Ibanri locals who are aware of her sexuality.
The film’s more bombastic and sudden displays of silliness do threaten to undercut the seriousness of its subject matter at times, most notably in a rap battle and fight scene between Manok’s crew and bullies who target Jae-yeon for their gender expression (the latter moment feeling reminiscent of the chaotic slapstick of Bong Joon-Ho’s blockbusters). For the most part though Lee is suitably restrained enough when the film calls for it, letting the more emotional beats land without betraying the film’s overall optimistic outlook.
Also impressive is Lee’s balancing of the vast number of supporting characters that make up both Manok’s long-time Seoul friends and new-found supporters in Ibanri. The banter and chemistry between Manok, her butch girlfriend Geum-ja (Kim Jung-young), and her sophisticated older best friend Sun-ah makes their close-knit found family instantly believable. Meanwhile, Lee’s snappy script and character quirks big and small build an endearing impression of the Ibanri’s townspeople, from the devout Buddhist part-timer with a mysterious origin to the neighbourhood aunty who is uptight about which toilet she uses.
Although the town chief and his employees are not fleshed out to nearly the same degree, the empathy afforded to the village chief parallels Manok’s own journey from vindictive to tolerance of her ex-husband. Initially portrayed as an obnoxious villain who sees Manok’s sexuality as an affront to his own ego, by the end the chief’s attempts to connect with Jae-yeon shows that almost everyone is capable of understanding and accepting others.
In a director’s statement for Seoul International Women’s Festival, Lee said she “wanted to create a popular ‘queer’ film that everyone could enjoy”. Despite only recently starting its festival run, the film has already won the Korean Fantastic Audience Choice Award and sold out every session at the 29th Bucheon International Fantastic Film Fest. Judging by these early achievements and the positive reaction out of Sydney’s Queer Screen Festival screening, Manok is a bold, uplifting, and unapologetically queer crowd-pleaser.