to a realization -- this is the man he wants to kill, this is the man he has wanted to kill for whatever impossibly unnamed amount of time. I sit watching, wanting to align the film to Becket, to Sartre, to Topor -- but no it is nothing like that. I want to say it is A Pure Formality only darker, that it is Identity only more vicious, more precise, want to call it Rear Window crossbred with Birth . But it is altogether something else. Sang-up becomes less feeble but has no memory and is so fragile, Min-ho overhears, that the merest tap to his injured head would mean death. So Min-ho finds a way to make that head get tapped -- finds countless ways, desperate, sudden, providential, hard fought, finds ways ingenious, impossible to knock Sang-up's head again and again, night after night (and when these methods fail, he finds methods absolutely amoral to kill the man, such as having a visiting child pour packet after packet of jelly into his sleeping mouth) insane and transfixing methods -- methods I truly, truly want to succeed. But each morning after passing out from his efforts with a fulfilled grin on his face, Min-ho wakes to a pleasant greeting from the man who should be dead, the man who recovers more and more for each time he is bludgeoned. Each morning Sang-Up's personality emerges, each day his memory returns, bit by bit -- until he realizes that Min-ho is the