형사 Duelist

형사 Duelist

A Wellmade Entertainment Production
Distribution: Korea Pictures
Rating: 12 and Over
Genre: Comedy, Martial Arts, Drama
Running Time: 113 Min
Shooting Time: N/A
Release: 2005/Sep/08

WITH 하지원 (Ha Ji-Won) as Nam-Soon; 강동원 (Kang Dong-Won) as Sad Eyes; 안성기 (Ahn Sung-Gi) as Officer Ahn; 송영창 (Song Young-Chang) as Minister of War; 윤주상 (Yoon Joo-Sang) as Bong-Chool; 김정태 (Kim Jung-Tae) as Ga Do-Chi; 도용구 (Do Young-Gu) as Inspector; 배종식 (Bae Jong-Shik) as Officer Bae; 박명신 (Park Myeong-Shin) as Gisaeng Leader;

CREW Director 이명세 (Lee Myung-Se) Executive Producer 고미희 (Go Mi-Hee) 이명세 (Lee Myung-Se) 유정희 (Yoo Jung-Hee) | Screenplay 이명세 (Lee Myung-See) 이해경 (Lee Hae-Gyeong) | Director of Photography 황기석 (Hwang Gi-Seok) Lighting 신경만 (Shin Gyeong-Man) Editor 고임표 (Go Im-Pyo) Music 조성우 (Jo Seong-Woo) Art Direction 조근현 (Jo Geun-Hyeon) 홍주희 (Hong Ju-Hee) 이형주 (Lee Hyeong-Joo) Costumes 오만호 (Oh Man-Ho) Action Choreography 전문식 (Jeon Moon-Shik) Assistant Director 김정곤 (Kim Jung-Gon)
Based Upon Bang Hak-Gi's Manhwa 다모 남순이 (Damo Namsoon)

BOX OFFICE
KOFIC Nationwide
TOTAL REVENUE: 5,848,601,000 Won
TOTAL ADMISSIONS: 922,367
BUDGET: 8,000,000,000 Won

Photo ⓒ Wellmade Entertainment, Korea Pictures

SYNOPSIS

Once upon a time in Korea, the Minister of Defense, SONG Pil-joon, gets rid of his political opponents and assumes complete control of the armed forces. Also Song goes on to stamp counterfeit money. Detective Nam-soon goes forthrightly undercover with her partner Detective Ahn to investigate the counterfeit money. She discovers that one loyal henchman, Sad Eyes, a beautiful swordsman with a pale, blank face, is covering up Minister Song’s tracks. Nam-soon and Sad Eyes confront each other in a series of duels - tirelessly chasing, being pursued and dodging each other. Inevitably, they fall in love. Each struggles to reconcile the desperate conflict between love and obligation to duty, as they square off to meet their fate in one last duel. [KoBiz]

REVIEW

"Imagine a world alive with incomprehensible objects and shimmering with an endless variety of movement and innumerable gradations of color. Imagine a world before the beginning was the word." - Stan Brakhage

Memories, images and sounds inside our minds. Floating, flowing like water, occasionally re-emerging, feeling as fresh as the first time we experienced them; sometimes reminding us of why we live the way we do, or why we go through so many efforts to continue doing that. Those who started watching Korean films a few years ago might remember a few details about their first acquaintances with Chungmuro, but I bet they remember clearly what made them interested in this little country's cinematic output for the first time. Their 'first love', so to speak. That moment when you're not sure whether it's love, or you're just experiencing something new and unexpected, a sort of confusion, chaos, something you can't clearly define. My first date with that kind of film didn't quite produce the results I expected: my best friend, who introduced me to Korean films many moons ago, said I'd absolutely love it, given time. But all that exaggeration, all those cliches put on screen with such reckless abandon for storytelling structure, all that over-the-top acting put me off. I clearly remember telling him: "You're smoking. What's so good about it?" All he did was smirk, with one of those strange looks, almost implying that one day he would look at me again, saying "I told you so."

After that first viewing, I kept feeling strange. I still clearly sensed why I disliked the film, yet I couldn't help but think about it again. And again. I was confused, why was I spending so much time thinking about something I didn't even like? I tried to find answers, but couldn't come up with anything. A couple of weeks passed, and nothing changed, but I finally decided to re-experience all that. I watched the film a second time, and while I still disliked it, I started a slow immersion which in a few months led that strange little flick to become what was then my favorite Korean film of all time. It took a good dozen 'dates' and almost a year, but falling into that mysterious vortex of genre elements, put together in wildly anarchic fashion, became strangely and increasingly appealing. I started forgetting about what I considered 'flaws' at the beginning, and accepted that film's world, its unique rhythm and language, dynamics, visuals. And today I'm here, with that friend always smirking every time I sit down to watch any of one of my favourite directors' works. Lee Myung-Se's 1995 film 남자는 괴로워 (Bitter and Sweet) became that "first love" for me.

Just like many other great artists, Director Lee never had an easy childhood. He was even sent home from the military, as his presence and 'wicked individualism' often caused him death threats. Debuting in Chungmuro in the late Seventies, Lee worked for veteran Kim Su-Yong on films like 달려라 만석아 (Man-Suk, Run!) and 빨주노초파남보 (Rainbow), before finally becoming assistant director. In the 80s he met Bae Chang-Ho, who back then ruled the Korean box office with films like the 고래사냥 (Whale Hunting) series, and became one of the most influential and acclaimed directors of the decade. The time was ripe for Lee to finally debut as a director, as production methods were starting to change in the Chungmuro of the mid-to-late 80s, but he could never get his first project off the blocks. He always planned to start with a 사극 (Historical Drama), but could never find the budget or right conditions to do it. The genre was the perfect launchpad to develop his cinematic world, because the period film and its visuals, its historical background (removed from 'modern' realism) would allow him to move freely. Yet, his debut was completely different. 1988's 개그맨 (Gagman) shocked Chungmuro, still in the midst of important changes and in a seemingly eternal period of transition.

The film was supposed to debut in the Christmas season at the Danseongsa Theater that year, and distributors Taeheung Pictures, Lee Tae-Won's company which worked with Im Kwon-Taek for nearly two decades, saw huge potential. But after the press screening, most people had a bleak look on their faces, noting that this was never going to be a box office success. The only Korean film doing well at the box office that year was Yoo Jin-Seon's 매춘 (Prostitute), and Bertolucci's The Last Emperor dominated for most of the year. What's even worse, the release of the Bruce Willis action 'classic' Die Hard and its huge popularity at the box office severely hampered Gagman and its box office run. Its main advertisement was withdrawn, and the film was pulled from most theaters. But thanks to word of mouth from a group of core followers and extremely positive reviews from certain critics (including Lee's longtime friend Kang Han-Seop) the film kept screening, for much longer than anyone could ever expect. The reason was obvious: Gagman is one of the shiniest highlights of the decade, and one of the best debut films Korean Cinema had ever seen, on par with Jang Joon-Hwan's masterful 지구를 지켜라! (Save The Green Planet) and Ryu Seung-Wan's 죽거나 혹은 나쁘거나 (Die Bad).

Starring Ahn Sung-Gi as a third rate comedian who thinks he has everything to become a great film director; Bae Chang-Ho as a barber who dreams of becoming an actor, and Hwang Shin-Hye as an unlikely femme fatale, the three cook up a robbery the likes of which you could only see in a Lee Myung-Se film, still one of the funniest, wildest scenes in Korean Cinema history. Part anti-gangster comedy, part parody of Hollywood hits like Bonnie & Clyde; with a familiar yet charming humanism; incredibly funny yet bittersweet, with lots of playful cliches but also tremendous creativity, Gagman perfectly exemplified the situation Chungmuro was in during the final days of the 80s. The ideas were certainly there, and with the relaxing of censorship, the canvas to express them was even wider. Now what was left to achieve were technological infrastructure and the business model to live up to that potential, but most importantly the confidence to make all that creativity shine. Lee was one of the first to show Korean Cinema could achieve that, and Gagman is still one of his best works.

The early 90s were conflicting and very confusing for Lee. His second film 나의 사랑 나의 신부 (My Love, My Bride) did extremely well, starring Choi Jin-Shil and Park Joong-Hoon in a wild sendoff of the romantic comedy genre, which sort of started the big trend, although it was 1992's 결혼 이야기 (Wedding Story) which really alerted everyone in the industry about the genre's box office potential. Yet one of his best films, the 1993 melodrama 첫사랑 (First Love), sold a mere 5,000 tickets. One of the best scripts written in the 90s, the film starred Kim Hye-Soo in what's still her best performance, as a young woman experiencing first love, growing and maturing thanks to it, with an almost fairy-tale like vision of her relationship with an older man (played by Lee regular Song Young-Chang). Although My Love, My Bride had already shown bits and pieces of what would become Lee's representative visual style, First Love showed even more effectively his ability to mix various ways of conveying emotions through visual means (animation, stills, poems, sometimes even cheesy visual effects), somewhat removed from the textual narrative. But that unique style found its most striking portrayal in Bitter and Sweet. The story was as simple as they get: a week in the life of a salaryman (Ahn Sung-Gi), all his crazy struggles to break the glass ceiling and advance in a constantly changing society, and the pressure the company had on his family life. But beyond the surface of exaggerated motions and awkward production values was an irresistible rhythm, a mix of Chaplin and Buster Keaton's energy, the 'visual storytelling' of early silent films, and a healthy dose of social commentary about Korea's economic growth, all done with a huge tongue in cheek, Lee Myung-Se style.

It was panned by critics, who didn't see Lee was merely turning the genre on its head, taking 'family melodramas' of the 60s like 박서방 (Mr. Park) and injecting new vibe to their tropes, just like what he did for romantic comedies in My Love, My Bride and puppy-love melodramas in First Love. Bitter and Sweet might have been a huge flop, but it started paving the way for the kind of filmmaker Lee has become today. He began to create his own unique brand of filmmaking, somewhere in between Stan Brakhage's brilliant experimental madness and Wong Kar-Wai's romantic visual humanism. He started paying less attention than ever on the narrative structure of films, and focused on the rhythm and dynamics which were the basis for the first silent movies, rediscovering that sense of movement and 'movie magic' which had long been sacrificed to focus on dialogue, character arcs and linear storytelling techniques. Even his return to melodramas in 지독한 사랑 (Their Last Love Affair) was an answer to the antics of landmark melodramas like 미워도 다시 한번 (Love Me Once Again) and 자유부인 (Madame Freedom), which were responsible for creating the roots of Koreans' most beloved genre. The love scenes between Kim Gab-Soo and Kang Su-Yeon were like a ballet, always conveying a certain sense of movement and creative use of the actors' bodies -- in some ways similar to Yeo Gyun-Dong's 2000 film 미인 (La Belle), which alas suffers from poor casting but does bear some similarities to this film (sans Lee's sense of humour).

It would be the next film which would put him on the International map though, and remind Chungmuro he wasn't a one-hit wonder trying to repeat his past feats. Lee was preparing a period action film, and even went to Japan for location hunting, but for a variety of reasons decided to opt for a more modern setting. After spending 3 months with a group of detectives from Incheon, Lee wrote 인정사정 볼것 없다 (Nowhere To Hide). Detective Woo (Park Joong-Hoon) and Kim (Jang Dong-Gun), along with runaway criminal Jang Sung-Min (Ahn Sung-Gi) were based on real life figures, and Lee tried to offer a new version of the police procedural, even going as far as making fun of Kang Woo-Suk's 'sacred cow' 투캅스 (Two Cops), one of the first Korean films of the 90s to strike a chord with the public -- which, ironically, starred Ahn and Park just like in Nowhere To Hide. Using The Bee Gees' 'Holiday' during a murder scene, and even a punk rock version of Song Dae-Gwan's trot classic 해뜰날 (by the great pop-rock band Cherry Filter), Lee made it instantly clear he wasn't going to follow the rules. He wasn't interested in whodunit shenanigans or buddy movie cliches, but instead focused on the thrill of the chase. Movement and rhythm, once again, culminating in that fantastic confrontation under the rain.

Nowhere To Hide was a big success at home, landing in fourth place that year at the box office, and brought Lee International fame a few months later, when the film made its way to several Festivals. But some viewers started bringing to the table some of the criticism Lee faced at home: that his films had no substance, only style. The drama in his films was weak, the characters developed badly or not at all, and all those different genre elements didn't gel together. Yet, the director also acquired a group of followers, who saw in his films exactly what the people he was compared to (Tarantino and John Woo...) failed to do: create something fresh, original, and exciting. Nowhere To Hide was unlike any other 'action' film they had seen in Hollywood or Hong Kong. Foes would dance to tango on rooftoops while fighting, punch like characters from a manga, run for miles without stopping; you could find slapstick comedy, melodrama, gangster comedy tropes, visual tricks that would make Christopher Doyle giggle in his seat, and a sense the images were telling the story, and rhythm was leading the film. No exposition, no solemn dialogue, no flashbacks and similar tricks: just images, sound, action, movement... the magic of movies, as they were always intended to be. Stripped from genre tropes and genre itself, from 'proper' narrative techniques, from the idea that cliches are bad even when you use them to do something fresh and interesting. Lee Myung-Se opened his cinematic world for everyone to see, and it was only a matter of time before Hollywood would grow interested.

The spring of 2000. Korean Cinema was right in the middle of the 반칙왕 (The Foul King) craze, and the 한류 (Korean Wave) was starting to move its first serious steps with Yoon Seok-Ho's 가을동화 (Autumn Fairy Tale). In the midst of all this media frenzy, Lee Myung-Se left for the US, for what would become a very important part of his life. He established a relationship with the Scott brothers (Ridley and Tony), who were impressed by his latest work, and thanks to his visual style, he was brought in to shoot CFs. Most people think of this period as the failed beginning of another John Woo-like adventure, but Lee mostly used those few years to sit back, relax, and study how the industry was evolving around him. At first he was offered Van Damme flicks because people misunderstood Nowhere To Hide, and he even thought about making horror films -- a certain Miriam, which might still come into fruition -- but action was his calling card to International fame, so eventually he decided to turn back to that. New Amsterdam Entertainment, producers of the TV Series Dune and a few George Romero films, were ready to start filming on one of his projects -- called Hitmen -- but Jeff Bridges, who was supposed to star in the film, didn't feel working with an unknown foreign director who couldn't speak English well was the best of ideas, so it all went up in flames.

Lee continued working with New Amsterdam, and it seemed like Beautiful Country (starring Nick Nolte) would become his first project in the US. But after reading the script and not finding it up to his standards, he put that in the backburner too. During this time, Lee even took the initial steps on two possible follow-ups to Nowhere To Hide, forming a virtual trilogy. If the 1999 film was the 추적 (chase) part, he would follow with a 미궁 (mystery) part and finally a 대결 (confrontation) part. This second film even had a working title -- 형사수첩 (The Detective Notebook) -- and was about a serial killer and the investigation surrounding his murders, but Bong Joon-Ho ended up exploring that goldmine with his 2003 masterpiece 살인의 추억 (Memories of Murder), so Lee gave up. After a half decade of ups and downs he decided to give that third part, about the 'confrontation', a try. Almost a decade after his debut, Lee would finally get the chance to make that Historical Drama he always dreamed about. Now the conditions were perfect, with a Wuxia craze in the International market, genre which never worked really well in Korea, at least in the modern Chungmuro, but could certainly appeal to a Western Audience. And so the legendary trials and tribulations of 형사 Duelist began.

The first problem Lee faced was that created by the tropes of the genre. One of the most striking aspects of Historical Dramas has always been their social and historical background. From the allegory between the Three Kingdoms (Shilla, Baekje and Goguryeo) and modern Korean regionalism in Lee Joon-Ik's 황산벌 (Once Upon a Time in the Battlefield) to political strife in the Joseon Dynasty in Park Jong-Won's masterful 영원한 제국 (The Eternal Empire), the genre had always this 'educational' element, this ability to show life in a different era, and how it could possibly apply to the modern age through allegory. But Lee merely used the historical background as a McGuffin: removing ourselves more and more from the reality of our everyday life, the history in Duelist is nothing more than a costume Lee puts on to tell us we shouldn't be concerned about time and society, which allows us to see the bigger picture and what the director was aiming at: pure cinematic essence, visuals and movement, and nothing else. It's a controversial technique, but not too different from Hong Sang-Soo's decision of shooting 오! 수정 (Virgin Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors) in black & white, to force us to focus on the dialogue and the characters. But of course Lee uses this for the opposite effect: focus on everything but the dialogue and the characters, or at least their 'development'. This puts the viewer in an interesting, if somewhat frustrating position: we're given a certain input, that of the historical setting, but then Lee plays with history the way he wants.

Bang Hak-Gi's original manhwa 다모 남순이 (Damo Nam-Soon), which this film is (very, very) loosely based on, clearly used the background of the Joseon Dynasty in a very eclectic way, escaping from the tropes of manhwa's with an historical setting. But Lee never cared. Talking about this aspect of the film, he commented you could change the period to Shilla, and it wouldn't affect the film one bit. Even the dialogue isn't affected, as Lee mostly uses 사투리 (local dialect) instead of the 'old Korean' spoken in the Joseon Dynasty. The costumes are wild and colourful, a far cry from the 백의민족 (The White Clad Folk, now synonym for people in the Joseon Dynasty) society so eloquently portrayed in countless Historical Dramas on TV and the big screen. They're instead functional to the film itself: they help movement, they strike a chord with the viewer in a visual sense, there's no particular connection to the history presented in the source material. Another important point is action, always a crucial part of Wuxia and Historical Dramas. Western audiences, treated to sumptuous exotica like Zhang Yimou's recent films or Ang Lee's 臥虎將龍 (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), or those influenced by Hong Kong Wuxia of the Shaw Brothers period, tend have certain expectations regarding the genre. But once again, almost with a grin on his face, Lee Myung-Se disrupts and challenges those expectations. What he offers is, as he calls it, 'not an action film, but film action'. That is, movement, action which flows along with the rhythm of the film. Like Ahn Sung-Gi's frenetic movement in Bitter and Sweet, the ballet-like sex of Their Last Love Affair, or Park Joong-Hoon's thuggish power-walking in Nowhere To Hide, Lee uses the body language of his actors and their confrontation to convey something else. It's like sex, only this time it's swords and knives grinding against each other, instead of kisses and embraces.

This communication with the viewer through visual means has always been a staple of Lee's films, ever since his debut. Some people, talking negatively about the film, compared Duelist to a two hour Music Video, but in essence this is the complete opposite of that: Music Videos use images as a background to support the music, whereas this film uses sound and images as the film's main way of communicating with the viewer. When Nam-Soon (Ha Ji-Won) and Sad Eyes (Kang Dong-Won) square off for the first time in the shadows, we're not witnessing two martial arts masters showing all their finesse, but simply the only way they can communicate their attraction to each other without betraying their nature. Besides, well trained 'Wuxia eyes' would never be satisfied, as the level of wire action in Korea is not up to level of Hong Kong. And, as the flop of 무영검 (Shadowless Sword) showed, most Koreans don't really care about traditional Wuxia, finding its 'exaggeration' a little too off-putting, especially if you look at how realistic the action on most Korean films is. Looking at this film with the fixed motions and styles of the Wuxia formula in mind will only end up leading you astray, as Lee never intended to use action as an element separated from the flow of the film -- as in the notorious 'let's stop and have an action scene' moments in Jackie Chan films -- but instead use the movement within the action to progress his visual storytelling. This is why the actors took tango lessons even before starting their martial arts training, and why what we're seeing is more a ballet between two people in love than an action scene.

Let's go even further: if you look at the relationship between Nam-Soon and her followers (Ahn Sung-Gi on top), against Sad Eyes and the minister (Song Young-Chang), you'll see how this film quickly becomes a Romeo & Juliet with hanbok, more than another 英雄 (Hero) clone. The two love each other, but they're divided by their profession, their status and affiliation, and that can only lead to tragedy. Certainly that might seem like too easy an explanation, but why not? Lee admitted it himself, that instead of comparing the film to Zhang Yimou's recent films or Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, this is merely a Nowhere To Hide in the Joseon Dynasty, or a Korean reworking of Shakespeare. By not developing the characters beyond a quick introduction, by throwing us right into the mix (just like in Nowhere To Hide), without tricky flashbacks to explain the characters' motivation, Lee seems to admit there's a limitation to what film can achieve on a storytelling sense. Do we really need to know about Nam-Soon's past, or why Sad Eyes keeps serving his master? Not really. Do we need to see the two slowly engage in courtship, to see their relationship bloom at the end? No. The early silent films were much simpler, rougher and unsophisticated than what we see today, at least if you filter them through the sentiments of today's moviegoing populace. Yet they had a magnetic charm, that sense that this new invention, moving pictures, would change the world. Lee Myung-Se's work is not easy to appreciate, because it brings backs that charm of the early days, but also forces the viewers to think about the images, since they're not fed narrative explanations.

Another problem the film will face comes from the source material, already represented in the cult TV drama 다모 (Damo). Now, while Lee Jae-Gyu's 2003 MBC drama didn't exactly follow the manhwa to a T, Lee Myung-Se's use of the original work is merely a starting point: we have a female detective in the Joseon Dynasty, a ring of counterfeit money and a possible culprit, and then the characters' evolution take a completely different turn. The character development in the TV drama slightly betrayed the source material by always resorting to the 'melodrama code', with our heroine constantly needing the help of the men she loved (or had an emotional attraction to), whereas Bang Hak-Gi's Damo is much more independent and spirited. In this respect, Duelist is a little closer to the manhwa, but that's only looking at the surface. From the first moment Ha Ji-Won pops on the screen, the way she reacts and moves instantly reminds of Detective Woo from Nowhere To Hide -- there's that obvious visual cue of group of detectives walking together, which is almost a frame-by-frame reworking of an early scene in the 1999 film. And while Damo's Chae-Ok kept everything but the strongest feelings to herself, while she moved with the grace of a butterfly even during her confrontations, the Nam-Soon in Duelist swears a storm, acts like a drunken fool, and erupts with emotion from beginning to end. This may create some discomfort for those who enjoyed or even loved -- I'm thinking about the millions of 다모폐인 (Damo PyeIn, the 'Crippled By Damo') -- Ha's character in the TV drama, which makes a 180 degrees turn in this film.

But this is just one of Lee's many ways to throw off our expectations. Ahn Sung-Gi, the 극민배우 (national actor) who created a sophisticated image over the years, goofs around for the entire film, whereas people rather expected another Jang Sung-Min, quiet and with that killer gaze. Hardly characters you can instantly fall for, but finding sympathy or empathy for the characters was never really Lee's goal. And if you keep Nowhere To Hide in mind, then their antics will be a lot more familiar: think of Ha Ji-Won as the Park Joong-Hoon of the film, with Ahn Sung-Gi playing Jang Dong-Gun, and and Kang Dong-Won playing Ahn Sung-Gi... then things instantly start to become a little clearer. Of course you could think of their acting as an exaggerated mess, but then you'd be failing to see the point. Ahn Sung-Gi overacted in all of Lee's films, from Gagman, passing from Bitter and Sweet to Nowhere To Hide. Park Joong-Hoon did the same, both in My Love, My Bride and Nowhere To Hide. So they're not giving a 'bad performance', but acting over the top on purpose, because that's exactly what Lee wants. It's like when an NBA player slam dunks, or Ronaldinho does his tricks in a soccer match... they don't really need to do that, but it adds to the flavour of film language.

This vortex of images, sounds, wild mood swings and visual cues are the elements which always made up Lee Myung-Se's world, and they continue to play a crucial part in Duelist. Using broad slapstick comedy which reminds of early silent films, visual techniques of black and white expressionist films, and camerawork which emphasizes rhythm over everything else, this is like a 110 minute soccer march, or a festival: it has slower and faster moments, but it constantly moves, it flows from one end of the spectrum to the other, unpredictably. You never know where it will lead, and the end result might not even live up to your expectations. But it's the thrill of the movement, the film language itself which keeps you glued to the screen. This film lives for that sense of confrontation: the love/hate confrontation between Nam-Soon and Sad Eyes, its way of dueling with cliches and genre tropes which make us lazy viewers, always asking for new things but then unable to appreciate someone trying something completely different, and even the confrontation between those who love and hate the film. From beginning to end a long confrontation, screaming and hitting us with all its violence, waking films up from the mannerisms they have fallen into. And for achieving that in such spectacular fashion, Duelist is one of the year's most important cinematic achievements.

Duelist is not a wuxia, not a comedy, a melodrama, a detective flick or an historical drama. It's a fusion of all those elements to form something unique, something only Lee Myung-Se can make. Asked about what the 'M' in his production company meant, Lee said it might mean Metiere (French for artisan), Myung-Se, McGuffin, Money, or even Movement. After watching Duelist, I think I've found what it means, at least to me.

Magic.

- Originally Published on Twitch, 2006/02/17

ACTING GRADES

80 안성기 (Ahn Sung-Gi)
73 송영창 (Song Young-Chang)
73 윤주상 (Yoon Joo-Sang)
66 박명신 (Park Myeong-Shin)
65 하지원 (Ha Ji-Won)
65 배종식 (Bae Jong-Shik)
65 도용구 (Do Yong-Gu)
64 강동원 (Kang Dong-Won)
60 김정태 (Kim Jung-Tae)

~ Last Update: 2015/05/29