There's something not quite right about Mother. The story of a working class Korean woman's devotion to her developmentally disabled son is a little uneven. The first half sort of falters, despite including some fairly action-oriented themes: hit and run, murder, blackmail, taking one's medicine.
Kim Hye-ja plays her cards close to her chest in the title role, belying her emotions with a sideways glance or a well placed frown, rather than ranting or wailing (although those certainly find a niche, here). Still there's something dissatisfying about this sedateness and, despite it providing a starker contrast to the emotionally involved second act, it puts a strain on the journey. Won Bin does well as the challenged son, Yoon Do-joon, whom you'd better not call a retard.
A little too much comic relief, at times, puts a strangle hold on the suspense. But once the ball gets rolling, the latter half of the movie is pretty startling in its noirish intensity and there's something of a sad Lynchian quality to the way Bong allows the victimized schoolgirl to speak for herself, revealing the wariness surrounding her seemingly jaded existence.
The look of the thing, of course, is pretty exquisite. Bong certainly isn't lacking in his ability to seek out skilled cinematographers who'll assist him in fulfilling his cinematic vision. Claustrophobic spy shots (through holes, just around corners) mirror the mother's suspicions and serve as visual puzzle pieces. They yield, more than once, to gorgeous sweeping shots of Kim marching across the open landscape in search of the truth. If one woman, a speck through the rain, can find the truth caught in the loom of insurmountable peaks.
The end, just unexpectedly lovely and full of liberation (owing quite a bit to the original score by Lee Byeong-woo) is a wonderful excuse to forget all those terrible truths. To finally go on in spite of the past, and to simply remember you're alive.
