Barking Dogs Never Bite...

Yun-ju is a part time college lecturer.  This isn’t much.  According to a poll that he and his friends read,, this puts him somewhere around 50^th on the list of “best husbands.”  He wants to become a professor at the university but he has no connection, no “in” with the dean, not unless he wants to put up $10,000 as a bribe. Furthering his angst, his pregnant and demanding wife berates him constantly and treats him like a little child.  But she’s the one that holds a steady job and supports their burgeoning family and she reminds him of this, over and over again.

All of this and he can’t sleep at night because of a yapping dog that barks all night. And dogs aren’t even allowed in apartment building! 

What else can Yun-ju do, except kill the mongrel?

Barking Dogs Never Bite (2000) listed on Netflix as a horror film isn’t exactly a –horror- film.  It is more of dark and morbid comedy.  And yes, it is very dark and it is very funny. This film from South Korea – my second Korean“horror” film this month – is funny in a dry, deadpan sort of way.  Many of the jokes are visual, created by slight camera movement and by the odd juxtaposition of images.

In his frustration and anger at the life-shaping forces beyond his control, Yun-ju kills the obnoxious dog that has been keeping his awake.  But he soon discovers that he's  killed the wrong one.  There’s another stupid yappy dog in the apartment building!  It’s not long before dogs begin disappearing from the complex.

And for the building’s janitor who finds their bodies, this is a boon because he enjoys a nice bowl of Boshnitang – that is, Dog Soup. It’s a Korean dish that has it’s origins in antiquity – though it has been ostensibly banned by the government since 1986.  Despite this, it is still available at many restaurants in South Korea.    The literal translation of the name Boshintang is “invigorating soup” and is eaten by many to increase their virility.  

Perhaps if Yun-ju had eaten the dogs he killed, he might not have been in such a desperate situation.  But he’s cowardly and weak.  And he’s ashamed.  He’s ashamed that he isn’t more at work, ashamed that his job is a nowhere-nothing kind of job; and he’s ashamed that has to depend upon his wife’s income for his family.  For a young man in a culture still rooted in Confucian values this is an intolerable situation.  He should be the man.  He should be respected by his peers, and, especially, by his wife. 

Hyeon-nam is equally disconnected in her work.  She works as a bookkeeper at the same apartment building but she’s bored and dissatisfied. It’s not until she notices the recent disappearance of dogs from the apartment building that she is really motivated.  She dreams of becoming a hero, of doing something important and being recognized and applauded by people.  And so she begins to track down the person responsible for the missing dogs.

The movie has some clever nods to horror and kung-fu movie clichés and some really great camera work.  The sound track is an amazing blend of alternating jazz and Asian percussion tracks.  The script is well written and the acting is solid.  And it asks great questions – What does it mean to be successful?  What does it mean to be man?  How does one deal with frustrated ambitions?  How can you get rid of that noisy neighbor’s dog? 

Strangely enough, that same year the movie How to Kill Your Neighbor’s Dog was released in the U.S. Though the American film is less about social commentary and more about a mid-life crisis, it has similar premise – a once successful playwright struggles to deal with a decade long streak of bombs and a wife who is desperate for children – and a noisy bothersome dog in the neighbor’s yard.   The two films have a similar set up, but wind up in very different places at their conclusions.