Review: A life of anguish and despair is something we hope not to encounter in our lives. Most of us live our lives with hopes and dreams. We continue to press forward every day because we're able and strong. Our universal aspiration of a "better life" derives from a culmination of human idealistic thinking and a societal thirst for longing. Is this so-called "better life" attainable for everybody? And is "love" an everlasting idea or is it a mere "privilege" given to us by a superior being with the power to take it away at will?

We think without asking.
We know without believing.
We've hated without loving.
We all have been given the precious gift of life, but we have yet to really live it.
Do we humans really know what "love" truly is?

I must confess to you now, all these thoughts slowly and painfully crossed my mind as I sat on my bed emotionally and completely drained. My eyes bled tears. And my heart was weary from it. For the first time, I can honestly say, my heart found itself a prisoner of something spiritually overpowering. And for the first time, even my soul reacted. This phenomenon is Failan.

At first glance, the film is just your ordinary tale of love between star-crossed lovers. However, that simple tale magically becomes a poignant story of love, life and its misfortunes. It becomes a mirror image of how most of us may unknowingly take one brief moment for granted, and not see destiny slip from our very own fingertips. Failan manages to capture all this and turn it into a haven of remorse and regret. A place where dreams fade and only the true painstaking reality exists. It's a film about an ill-fated relationship that starts at the crossroads and ends in the heavens. Failan is sweet agony at its finest.

Succumbing to the aura of Failan is inevitable. The plot itself is an amazing accomplishment for any writer. The originality of the film is an exemplary concept of fresh ideas in action. Jiro Asada, famous for his work in "Love Letter," writes what I truly believe is the story of a lifetime. I can't begin to explain how realistic every subtle nuance in the film is. It's a masterful creation pulled off by haunting uses of flashbacks and small memorabilia that prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that anything, no matter how minute in detail, can be a profound revelation. Asada evokes the hidden passion within all of us and this is the feat that separates him from the rest.

My appreciation also extends to the director, Song Hae-seong, who uses the same subtlety seen in Il Mare. How he manages to perfectly weave a complicated tale by Asada and bring it to life was extraordinary. Hae-song works wonders with slow paced scenes. His intimacy and passion for the film are inspiring to watch and it showed a sense of maturity for someone who was only directing his second film. What strikes me most about this director's style is the way he convinced me that there was a love brewing between the two main characters amidst all the suffering and ugliness in their world. Song Hae-seong will sooner or later be recognized as a great thought-provoking dramatic director along with arguably the best, Wong Kar-wai.

Although the direction and beautifully written script were more than enough to make me fall in love with this movie, it was also exploding with two powerhouse performances by Korean actor Choi Min-shik (Kang-jae) and the Hong Kong starlet, Cecilia Cheung (Failan).

When the film begins the opening scenes, we are treated to a rugged, aging gangster, Kang-jae. He's very good with his mouth, but undeniably frail and soft inside. We'll begin to see this side of Kang-jae as Min-shik's facial expressions and interactions with the world changes. Min-shik gives a stunning performance as his character slowly unsheathes his true gentle side. The one remarkable scene I can't forget is the "letter" scene where Kang-jae seemingly bursts into tears. I can't remember the last time I gasped for breath during a movie. It was so tragic and forlorn.

As for Cheung's performance-unbelievably enchanting. Her portrayal as Failan is easily, far and away, her best work. Two things come to mind when I think of Cheung's portrayal of Failan; hope and longing. A red scarf and a picture given to her by Kang-jae's best friend were her only two mementos of her husband. The items become a sign of hope for Failan. The red scarf becomes sort of an emblem or seal of her gratitude toward her husband. And the picture of a smiling Kang-jae gives her courage to keep going until she finally sees that smile in person. Cheung is a gifted actress. The way her eyes gazes upon two toothbrushes she bought was the true form of melancholy if I've ever seen it. You'll swear you've just seen what a person would look like if they've ever gone into longing for something. Cheung was beautiful.