Svaha: The Sixth Finger (Jang Jae-hyun, 2019)

This film pretty much takes you for an scholar, in a good way. Svaha [स्वाहा], a sanskrit term indicating the coming to an end within Buddhist sutras or lectures, is the latest film by Korean director Jang Jae-hyun, and speaks tons on the high standards Korean cinematography is reaching these last few years. While of course this fact has reached mainstream approval -finally- via the Parasites' (2019) Oscar awards, it's hard to overestimate just how polished and original is becoming a long ignored Korean film industry. This is a long (2 hour-cut in its original version) and somewhat demanding film, or at least so it seems from the western cultural perspective. It heavily borrows from East-Asian religious and philosophical traditions, and assumes one's familiarity with them and the social context they manifest into. Since its setting is contemporary Korea, rampant cult activity, traditional Buddhist roots and various popular strains of Christianity all prominently appear, adding a rich subtext and commentary on the state of contemporary Korean society. In this sense, Svaha is definitely marketed towards the eastern hemisphere and thus requires patience from the non-targeted viewer. Concerning the film's production, its plot drives many themes and characters, with some storylines interweaving various cinema genres; horror, crime and suspense set the spine for the most part. It makes a clever use of the cinematographic language associated with each particular genre, and both a magnific camera work and a stunning sound/FX department grant an enjoyable visual experience for it.

As aforementioned, Svaha's plot consists of various convergent storylines, the main of which features priest and researcher Park, affiliated with an Institute of Religious Studies aiming to out and uncover destructive or fraudulent cults operating in Korea under the guise of religious organizations. His open search for clickbaits gets however derailed by Deer Mount, which appears to be exactly a good ol' Buddhist support church. While preaching common Buddhist themes such as the Lotus Sutra (a piece of scripture widely known in Asia, just as much as the Bible), Deer Mount reveals itself as an enigma, since its scriptures only exist as four exemplars enshrined in that same amount of temples. They also present colorful murals depicting The Four Heavenly Kings [四天王], fairly horrific divine creatures hunting demons for the Buddha at the four cardinal points. Previously demons, their reconversion into upolders of Dharma [धर्म] or the upright rule of behaviour granted them such importance that, now far from India and incorporated within the most elaborated metaphysical forms of Mahāyāna Buddhism, traveled to China, Korea, Japan and Southwest Asia. These divine yet monstrous figures receive devotion to an extent, but they rarely turn into the sole source of faith. Thus, Park, along with his many contacts will then pursue their sacred texts as to clarify this puzzling feature.

At the same time, the second plotline involves Geum-hwa, a teenaged girl in rural Korea. Her lame leg is result of the harm inflicted on her by her twin in-uterus. Instead of turning out a vanishing twin (if you don't know what that is, be careful out there boy), her sister sucked her leg to survive, resulting in her being born with such defect. However the sister turned out to be a monster, deformed and covered in fur; she was expected to die, but instead she fully developed. Endowed with animal-like behavior and inspiring fear and shame to her family, she was secluded within an attached cabin with an iron door, being fed by her Christian parents and sister, without ever learning how to speak. None of this qualifies as spoiler, since it is directly addressed from the very start; yet the progression of the film slowly gives us tacit indications that this 'ghost twin' amounts to much more than just a teratologic child. While pastor Park's plotline involves members of academia and Buddhist priests, Geum-hwa's surroundings allow for scenes including the folk religious traditions. In particular, a sword-wielding shamaness performing Geommu as means of exorcism is fully reminiscent of The Wailing (2016).

Geum-hwa's storyline also most displays horror elements, and visual symbolism. As an example, snakes feature prominently in the film; while heavily associated with evil from the Christian standpoint, they are benefic in Buddhism, and one of them (Mucalinda) is the guardian of Buddha himself. The crosses and Christian paraphernalia in her ruined house also allow for mixed interpretations, playing on the viewer's expectatives without being too blatant about it. Horror is also manifest in the third plotline, involving a policial investigation trying to unmask a presumpt serial killer loosely associated with Deer Mount. The suspect targets young girls, killing them and then filling their mouth with beans and paper amulets. These ritual killings will then become the key to unmask a coordinated scheme involving prophecies found among Deer Mount's scripture.

There are quite few cinema genres as burned-out as prophetic suspense films, American directors having re-iterated such theme as either easy plot thread (a la Angels and Demons) or (at worse) invoking its salvific powers whenever the script demands it. Examples are abundant, including beloved and unlikely franchises such as Game Of Thrones, and not necessary for you to get an idea. Part of Svaha's attractive is its revitalizing the genre by displaying much of it in utterly different contexts, such as Buddhist millennialism. This particular undercurrent of certain historical and contemporary religious groups is most represented by the Maitreya or future Buddha. The idea attributes soteriologic (and almost eschatological) powers to a Buddha yet-to-be-born, capable of transforming the entire sensible world into a pure-land. While pure-land Buddhism is a quite popular branch of Mahāyāna Buddhism (as an example, its Japanese counterpart vastly amassing more believers than all other branches), it remains completely unknown in the West and thus much of Svaha's plot can get you by surprise. But, and this can be universally recognised, Svaha introduces its prophetic enigmas tastefully, and in fact they remain secondary for most of the film. They do not obnubilate characters or setting, only adding more weight to the third and final act. This extra time entirely dedicated to crafting atmosphere and rythm absolutely pays off, allowing the viewer to experiment the film's rich universe without feeling compelled by things-yet-to-happen.

This eastern approach to a genre pretty much dead elsewhere deserves credit, and though I think it wouldn't really work in cinema tickets around the world, the fact that Jang Jae-hyun opted for an international Netflix release instead makes me think he knew Svaha's advantages and handicaps. He himself said ''is really complicated to unfold the Buddhist concept of the world in a cinematic way because so much information should be explained within a limited amount of time''. Although the film does a lot of exposition, many cuts focusing on texts and easy-going conversations between Park and his Buddhist associate, 'baldie', this can only amount to superficial concepts being truly conveyed to the public withut derailing the entire experience. Especially when, well into its script taking place in Korea, Svaha manages to include Tibetan Buddhism and also the historical Japanese invasion of the country (a theme also often coming back in Korean productions, and always in loose or direct relationship with shadowy deeds). Also concerning the topic of Tibetan Buddhism, the film's high budget allows for lots of extras and really stunning shots of multitudes, in beautiful temples filled with traditional architecture. These remain exotic and rare takes in cinema (even in the local film industries, being China, Korea or Japan), and being able to watch them is also a perk of the film.

All in all, Svaha's exigence may therefore excluse impatient movie-goers, but reward the willing to learn. Its visual language reinvents much of the assumptions about Asian Horror films, and open new vistas for experimentation. Well into the end, it also features a refreshing, and even unnerving portrayal of Buddhahood, and how un-human such state would actually look according to texts and Mahayana traditions. Even though this alien-ness and otherworldy character have historically been acknowledged in the East and deserved much fearsome devotion in ancient times, the film's take on Maitreya might constitute food for thought among western audiences, if waiting for an handsome, cheerful monk in orange kasaya. Also, it continues the great tradition of the subtle yet powerful Korean plotwist, almost a trademark since the early 2000s (Oldboy, Save The Green Planet) but well carried out to this point. And, despite its serious themes, Svaha includes a lot of comedic relief using the diverse cast on Park's team, making its two hour running time quite the pleasure. I, for one, wanted even more.