The four loosely-threaded vignettes in this South Korean omnibus of foot-in-face violence lead to one greater common bond shared over a regulatory-flow basis: the introduction of a short, inchoate conflict resolved at the end, or throughout, with a corollary punctuation of street martial artistry and a blaring soundtrack.Kung fu with a side-order of heavy metal. In other words, it’s sloppy and unkempt; a series of scenes set to the formula of, or dictated by, small verbal interludes before the donnybrooks are unleashed. The only small aberrations that earmark each act are variations in the color scheme and cinematography — the plain image, the blue-bleached image, the granulated image. Writer/director Ryoo Seung-wan visually alternates the brawls of invincible stamina to appositely see different timecodes for when the fights should start, mixing the action at the end of one vignette, a beginning, a middle, or intermittently shuffled back-and-forth to during the course of a dual-layered segment. The first vignette overstays its welcome, plunging very early into a routine of monotony that is to be strictly adhered to over the duration of the running time.
With Park Sung Bin, Ryoo Seung-bum and Seung-wan.[Not to be bothered with.]