By John Kie-chiang Oh

I saw "Chun-hyang" the other night, and I was enchanted. Of course, I did not see her in person, but in a movie, shown at a commercial theater in downtown, Washington, D.C.

When I came to the United States in 1954 as a university student, I could not in my wildest dreams ever imagine seeing Chunhyangjon (the tale of Chun- hyang) at a theater anywhere in the United States.

Recently, at a small bistro cinema, where a viewer can enjoy a movie while eating snacks or a light meal, I saw the Chunhyangjon, Korea’s Academy Award entry.

I felt the genuine pleasure that I occasionally experience after enjoying rare masterpieces of either the East or the West. I am sufficiently bi- cultural, and I am certain that my satisfaction was not just a function of my nostalgia for fine things Korean.

It was the sense of having appreciated a timeless masterpiece of 18th century Korean folk literature. Im Kwon-taek skillfully and tastefully directed the movie in the versatile medium of contemporary cinema, with English subtitles.

That the tale of Chun-hyang was written during the reign of King Sukjong (1674-1720) of the Choson Dynasty was quickly forgotten as soon as I was engrossed in several universal and perennial themes. They knew no national or cultural boundaries. These themes included love and passion across the chasm of rigid class distinctions, faithfulness of a helpless girl against the capricious advances of a powerful and corrupt magistrate, the suspense, the last minute rescue by her true love who became a secret royal censor, and a happy ending.

My quick appraisal of the audience in the bistro lounge confirmed this. There were more Caucasians than Asians. Further, some issues raised in the 18th century, e.g., power and corruption, devotion, and the eventual triumph of justice, transcend time, and had contemporary meanings for me.

The Washington Post movie critic exclaimed that it was "More than a romance. A perfect marriage between traditional form and contemporary issues."

Unlike the story of Romeo and Juliet, a romantic tragedy written by William Shakespeare (1564-1616), the identity of the author of the Tale of Chun-hyang is unknown, according to "The History of Korea’’ by Han Woo- keun (East-West Center Press) and "A History of the Korean People’’ by Andrew C. Nahm (Hollym Press).

It is possibly because an apparently gifted story teller, probably a member of the aristocratic (yangban) class, did not wish to be identified as a writer of commoners’ literature in hangul, the Korean vernacular used by lower class people and women.

The author might have been a scholar who had failed the royal examinations mostly on Confucian classics required for appointment to official positions. These examinations were written completely in Chinese characters, just as French was the lingua franca in the diplomatic world.

The anonymous author’s knowledgeable treatment of both the scholar official family and the former courtesan and her daughter, Chun-hyang, indicate that he, or she, knew worlds of both the privileged aristocracy and the aging and still unattached courtesan and her pretty offspring. The loss of a literary talent from Korean officialdom probably resulted in a lasting gift of a folk literature to the Korean people-and now to the world.

Lee Hyo-jung and Cho Seung-woo attractively portrayed love and youthful passion.

Director Im had them engage in passionate love making-each daringly pursuing the other, slithering together from room to room, exposing erotic coupling for fleeting seconds. There was even a brief all-nude scene that was shot from the young lovers’ curvaceous backs against a crimson bed sheet under full illumination. However, there was nothing prurient in the fairly long love scenes.

The heroine and the ardent lover appeared a bit too young to me to be such skillful love makers. But my notions about these love affairs in the 18th century Korea might have been outdated, and the movie producer probably had an eye on the box office, in Korea and abroad.

The movie exposed the harsh class separation between the aristocratic official’s family and that of a former courtesan and her daughter. As in so many Western novels, it is love at first sight as the governor’s young son, Mong-ryong, falls in love with a beauteous young maiden.

Unlike in Western literature in which a period of courtship would usually follow, however, the governor’s son visits the commoner’s house one night and tells the courtesan and her daughter that he desires her.

But he was soon sent away to the capital to study for the state examination by his father who was posted to the royal court. As Juliet said, parting was such sweet sorrow for the young lovers, and Chun-hyang swore her fidelity to him and he pledges his return to her after passing the state examination.

The new magistrate who replaced Mong-ryong’s father was a stereotypical local tyrant.

He capriciously demands that Chun-hyang serve him in his bedchamber. As Chun-hyang pleads with him in the name of her fidelity, the vindictive magistrate has her beaten savagely.

A pansori (folk music) singer masterfully narrates these long epic drama lines in the Korean commoners’ music form. In scenes where a master pansori cantor superbly narrates the caning of hapless Chun-hyang, the movie shows how the audience is moved to tears. Mong-ryong, now the secret royal censor, appears at the old courtesan’s house, disguised as a beggar.

Upon seeing Mong-ryong, however, Chun-hyang simply rejoices at his return to her despite her knowledge that the brutal magistrate at the end of his birthday party would execute her. Tension and suspense mount accompanied with music by Kim Jung-gil.

In the midst of the most opulent birthday banquet that boasts "a pond of wine and forests of meat,’’ soldiers of the central government suddenly surround the elegant banquet hall, and Mong-ryong materializes as imperial secret censor. Thus comes the happy ending - thanks to the power of imperial authority. In the end, it is more of a victory of a just imperial authority rather than the triumph of love and devotion of two individuals. That was the limitation of the Tale of Chun-hyang.

Having suffered through several crudely produced Korean movies in the past, it was an unadulterated pleasure to see this Korean masterpiece. The Los Angles Times exclaimed "Stunning! Exquisite! Triumphant!"

Chun-hyang remains a lovely and desirable maiden in every man’s heart. Chun-hyang was lovelier in Washington.