It is, in a sense, Chicago’s own West Side story. Neighborhood residents, many of them African-American, are at odds with community merchants, many of whom are Korean-American. The misunderstandings lead, on occasion, to violence. The people are troubled.
Then someone suggests making a movie.
“We want to have a message,” Chicago filmmaker Man-Sung Son said recently. “When people leave (the movie theater), they should think, `What does this mean?’ This can be a great tool to help us communicate with each other.”
The 110-page script, still in development, involves a series of bombings of Korean-owned stores in a chaotic neighborhood already beset with frictions between African-Americans, Korean-Americans, gangs and the police.
Returning home to Chicago after winning an international martial-arts tournament, the movie’s hero is drawn into the escalating unpleasantness when his grandmother’s store explodes. Then, as the plot summary puts it, “he begins his own search for the bomber, uncovers an enemy common to both Korean-American and African-American inhabitants of the neighborhood and finds an exciting, adventuresome way to solve this problem.”
“If you can see a ray of hope, from merchants, a minister, whoever will take a leadership role, it’s important,” said Richard “Ike” Isaac, a news and sports cameraman for WGN-Ch. 9 and one of the film’s producers. “That’s what we try to do in our script. We show people who want to put something back into the community.”
Added Helena Son, the wife of Man-Sung Son and a filmmaker herself: “Two Korean-Americans and two African-Americans are leading this venture. Backing them up are another African-American and two Caucasian Jews. According to the news media, we’re not supposed to get along. But here we are.”
The film, “Common Enemy,” has a budget of about $4 million, which is still being raised. The shooting, it is hoped, will start in May for six weeks. If all goes well, it will be released in late fall, bringing stardom to its lead actor, Ho Sung Pak, a mild-mannered graduate of the University of Illinois best known for his fancy footwork in “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II” and “III,” and in the video game Mortal Kombat.
“This guy’s so fast we don’t need any camera tricks,” said Man-Sung Son, ushering a visitor into his equipment-cluttered offices at SMS Productions, in a rehabbed building at 1327 W. Washington Blvd., for a preview screening of several scenes shot last September for promotional purposes. “I want to show you this and then we can talk.”
Even on a small video screen, Pak’s choreography looked exhausting. Sparring with partners from the Lakeshore Athletic Club, where he works out four to five hours a day, Pak offered a blazing combination of flailing, jumping, side-kicking, punching, hand-maneuvering and, later, sprinting down a street with a colleague draped across his shoulders to escape being run over by a bus filled with hateful, taunting, fist-waving neo-Nazi miscreants.
Although the movie deals with racial division, the project reflects long interracial friendships between members of Chicago’s camera community. After showing what they’d shot so far, the Sons and Isaac talked about it-and themselves-over coffee.
Like many photographers, Man-Sung Son said, this group of friends had been talking for years about pooling talents and making a feature-length movie. In recent years they’d seen many films made in Chicago, mostly by outsiders who brought in crews and stars. The time had come, they felt, for locals to tackle longer forms.
“That’s what makes this so exciting,” said Helena Son. “It’s a chance for Chicago to prove itself. You don’t have to bring in outside talent. We’re trying to prove that all the talent is here.”
Homegrown help
The group brings considerable credits to the venture.
The Sons rent, sell and service motion-picture equipment. In 1978, Man-Sung Son founded Midwest Korean Television Corp., which produced a weekly Korean-language TV program for three years on WCIU-Ch. 26. Later he was the producer of “Tenacious Wind,” a docudrama about the Korean community in Chicago. Isaac, a longtime staffer at WGN-Ch. 9, studied in the first class of the Chicago branch of New York’s Community Film Workshop, started by actor Ossie Davis. Later, while working for Chicago filmmaker Jack Behrens, he met Son. Starting out, Isaac often turned to Son for explanations of complicated camera functions. In turn, Son turned to Isaac when he needed someone to help film functions in the Korean community.
Others involved in producing “Common Enemy” include Robert Tutman, a photojournalist for CBS News based in Chicago for the past 25 years; Duane Muhammad, a WMAQ-Ch. 5 photojournalist for 14 years and winner of a Peter Lisagor Award; Robert Weitz, head of the art and design department at Chicago State University; and Pak, a member of the Black Belt Hall of Fame.
Isaac met Pak at the Lakeshore Athletic Club, 1320 W. Fullerton Ave., where both men work out. Isaac introduced Pak to his friends. Light bulbs went on.
“They’ve always wanted to make a feature film and they saw me as a vehicle,” Pak said in a phone interview. “But the idea was to go beyond making just a martial-arts film. They wanted to include a social message.
“In this film, people will see how blacks, Asians and Caucasians can get along. I’m not saying there aren’t bad people in all races. But I am saying most people can get along.
“I guess,” Pak said, speaking of the film’s creators, “it’s something like, `If we can work together, how come you guys can’t?’ That’s the message I want to send out to audiences.”
The movie’s preview scenes drew applause when they were shown recently to a group of potential investors in WMAQ’s media center at the NBC Tower. The room was filled with electronic equipment and about 50 heavy hitters from the city’s black and Korean communities. Two hosts, WMAQ anchor Warner Saunders and WGN reporter Joanie Lum, offered brief remarks, praising the project.
Saunders said he pitched in to help out longtime colleagues Tutman and Muhammad. “I’ve been listening to them drone on and on about how they want to make a movie,” Saunders said. “They asked me to stand up and say a few words.” And he did, though he said he is not an investor and doesn’t plan to try out for a role.
The go-between
One person who has played a big role in moving the project along is script consultant Karen Gunn, who is a community mediator for the 700 merchant-members of Korean-American Community Services, working under a grant from United Way.
A black single mother and a former corporate personnel specialist, Gunn’s mission for the past three years has been to ease tensions between Korean business owners and blacks and Hispanics. It is a challenging task. In 1990, frictions led to a black boycott of Korean-owned stores. In 1992, after the Bulls won their second National Basketball Association championship, 43 Korean-American stores were trashed, with property loss estimated at $6 million.
“I don’t ask people to fall in love with each other,” Gunn said in an interview. “I ask for respect. I ask people to listen. They will understand they have more similarities than differences.” There still are animosities and occasional boycotts, but there is evidence of better will on both sides.
With Gunn’s encouragement, Korean-owned stores have stepped up hiring of community residents. Many now bank locally. To cut down on stereotyping, Gunn takes groups of Korean merchants to visit black churches, restaurants and black-owned businesses. “They are shocked-on the positive side,” she said.
Conversely, black groups are told that many differences between the racial communities are cultural, rather than prejudice-generated. For example, Gunn said, “Koreans don’t look you in the eye until they know you well,” a sign that many blacks and Hispanics misidentify as aloofness. Nor do Koreans easily go to a first-name basis, especially with customers, who are comparative strangers.
A knowledge of such nuances made Gunn an invaluable resource to the movie’s scriptwriters.
“We’re trying to tell both sides of the story,” said Man-Sung Son. “We approached her, and she agreed to help us” as a script consultant on causes of friction between the two communities.
“We talked over the concept,” Gunn said. “We all wanted the script to be as accurate as possible in its view of African-American and Korean-American relations. It’s totally wrong to say they hate each other. There are misunderstandings, cultural differences and mistrust. But not a lot of hate.”
Film with a message
The result has been considerable rewriting of the original plot developed by Pak and director Peter Allen, a longtime East Coast maker of music videos. “We don’t want just a martial-arts picture. We want a movie that portrays Korean-Americans and African-Americans as close to the truth as possible,” Gunn said. That’s fine with Pak and the other team members.
“We’re trying to make an entertaining film, with a social message about minorities working together, but without hitting people over the head,” said Helena Son. “You can’t lecture people. It makes them turn away. But you can give them a subtle little push.”
Apparently that’s a pitch with some pull.
Last summer, when first casting call was announced, 700 people showed up to audition for 30 roles. A dozen people from creative departments of Chicago ad agencies are working on planning and marketing. Copies of a private memorandum are circulating among potential backers in the Korean business community. The principals meet weekly to fine-tune the script.
Making a movie is never easy, but Man-Sung Son is optimistic.
“There’s trust here,” he said. “Much of this venture has been done on handshakes. We have shown we can work together.”
Has the birth process of “Common Enemy” been difficult?
“Yes,” said Gunn. “In fact, I can’t wait until it’s born.”
