Trains of Oppression

Peppermint Candy has got to be one of the most disturbing and discomforting films that I have ever watched. I felt myself cringe so many times throughout the film, and I walked away from the screening feeling a bit emotionally and psychologically scarred. I think it will be long before some of those disturbing images get out of my head.

It makes me wonder though what Lee Chang-dong wanted the existential crisis illustrated in the film to truly represent. What (or who) does Yongho’s meltdown stand for? Is it Korea? The Korean people? An idea or an ideal?...

What I’d like to focus on mainly in this blog post is Peppermint Candy’s obvious fixation on trains and their tracks. Why would the director even choose to use them in the film in the first place? Could there have been some historical influence to Lee Chang-dong’s usage of trains and their tracks as a motif? At this point, I’m still pretty lost and not sure what they are really meant to represent, but hopefully through writing this blog post I’ll be able to collect my thoughts and figure out some underlying meaning.

In the reading from Nelson, the only time that she talks about trains is while she describes the period of Japanese colonial rule, which lasted until the end of WWII and was “a time of almost continual economic exploitation and cultural oppression,” (8). Nelson states that during this period of time, “Korean railroad lines facilitated the transport of goods and people from Japan’s foothold on the continent, Pusan, through China or Russia and on to Europe” (9).

So during this period of Japanese colonial rule I guess you could say that Korea was “prospering” but only by being “used” or exploited by Japan as an economic resource. Nelson states that Japanese colonial rule had “transformed Korea from an isolated peasant centered society into a nation participating fully, albeit deeply subjugated, in the world of trade, industry, and warfare” (8). This feels a bit paradoxical to me because although Korea was indeed given a push forward economically during this period, they were done so under oppression.  Perhaps the Korean railroad lines that we see so often in the film are a historical link to that paradox because those trains and tracks helped to transport goods that would benefit Korea economically, but they were only done so under the oppression of Japan. The railroad lines are a symbol of a path to economic success, but they will also always be tainted with the notion of cultural oppression.

Later on in Nelson’s book, she talks about South Korean nationalism and how it faces obstacles for the formation of national identity. She explains that “certain aspects of Korean history – the recurrent theme of foreign invasion… the shame of Japanese colonial domination, and the brief period of U.S. occupation as well as the legacy of ‘south Korean authoritarian leadership – diminished the power of history to generate positive national feeling” (19).  In a way, the railroad lines are reminders of Korea’s diminished and troubled history, and they might hinder the generation of a positive national identity.

Maybe if we consider all of this together, we can relate these railroad lines to Yong-ho’s existential meltdown in Peppermint Candy. Although he does gradually enter into economic stability as he ages, there is always some underlying oppression within him (perhaps psychological) that inevitably overpowers him and hinders him from finding his own identity, which results in an existential crisis.