Blogger Run-In Part 3: In which I learn to never give them my back

    Remember a few years back when the leaking of nude pictures of high-profile celebrities was a HUGE deal? It seemed like everybody who was somebody in the world of entertainment had set more than a few hearts ablaze when their lascivious pics were plastered all over the internet. I have to admit, I found myself quite thirsty once Justin Bieber (in his full uncut Canadian Bieberconda-ness) had his sensitive pics drop all over us.

    We live in a time and an age when whatever is done in secret soon enough finds its way to the interwebs for the public's voracious consumption. We also live in a time and an age where people love to humiliate and shame others for their private proclivities. Some of the celebrities that had these photos-gone-awry scandals had trusted and let themselves be photographed by significant others with the understanding that it was "for our eyes only" only to be later betrayed for a quick buck.

    Other celebrities (like High Lord Twink Bieber) were photographed against their will and without their permission/consent and therefore had their rights violated by the press.

    Now, I will not say that I'm a high-ranking celebrity (by any means) but in some circles I (and my homoerotic wrestling ego) are somewhat known-

    ...I'm a fucking star! I'm-
 
    Now, Drake, I wouldn't quite go THAT far...

    Why not?! People watch the videos...they get hard...they jerkoff... I'm a homoerotic wrestling STAR as well as the STAR of numerous jerkoff fantasies!
 
    I'm just saying that we're not, like, huge like Aryx Quinn...
    THAT bitch...









 
    Brad Rochelle...
   Mmm...









Kid Karisma..     
 ...double mmm...
   








Alexi Adamov
 ...waaaatch it, now...
   
I'm just stating facts... everybody's a star in their own right...
  
 Oh staaaahp that silly "we were all born superstars" Lady Gaga bullshit. This is all about me! People wouldn't give a flying FUCK if it were just you! I make you interesting! I make people give a single shit about what you have to say. I only let you speak more because you're the more eloquent and lazy of us two...I do all the heavy lifting and entertaining, so, continue...please...wow me...US...with your verbosity! *eye roll*
 
    I highly doubt you'll have much to say when you see where and why I'm going with this today...

    We'll see about that...
 
    So...anyways, before I was so RUDELY interrupted...

    YURE fine!
 
    Some people have their private photos released by a former loved and trusted one for the sake of a pretty penny and others have them forcibly taken and exposed by a member of the press for public slut shaming  . Our dear friend Drake was the victim of this very heinous, distasteful crime a little more than a year ago by the latter.

    Oh THIS shit!
 
    Nothing hurts more to a host than to be so disrespected by his guest. I wined and dined him and he repaid us with nothing but disrespect and much chest beating and trash talking.

    It's taken a long time (as you know, faithful reader) and a lot of therapy to get over the indignity we suffered at the hands of someone we thought we could trust...

    He's talking about this headless torso of a "writer" by the name of Bard...the blogger... I'll take it from here D2...

    ...sigh... 
 
    I blame D2 for a lot of our shortcomings because, you know, I'm kind of perfect. I'm the part of him that makes him go out and get what we want and deserve.

    He was a little too nice and deferential to our guest by letting him indulge in his fantasies in seeing the ring and the villa in which so many of his homoerotic fantasies had been brought to life. I just wanted to smack Bard around a bit to show him his place. He was here to fawn over me, to shower me with the praise that I so rightly deserve... I WAS the celebrity out of the two of us anyways.

    One fantasy of his I knew that hadn't been realized was to get tossed around the ring by a real-life, flesh and blood BGEast wrestler.

    And tossed around he WAS!

    I pasted that dude from ring post to ring post. I toured his hot little body with my steel-trap thighs that I know that he's been panting at and stroking over ever since I stepped on the scene.

    I loved rubbing his head as I watched his screwed-up-in-pain face turn red as he snuffled in my bulge like a pig rooting through a trough.

    I loved feeling his hands paw and pull feebly at my thighs as they crushed his skull, threatening to crack it like a nut.

    I giggled as he panted and gasped for breath as I crushed my legs around his ribcage, forcing the air from his pathetic lungs. 

    I'm  a kind host...this is what he wanted...this is what he got.

    If you take a look at his blog then you'll see that he has his own account of what happened but, since it's his blog, he's spun what happened in our encounter in a light that, though slightly favorable to me at first descends more into fiction as it progresses.

    The truth of the matter is this...we both lost count of exactly how many times he submitted to me, how many times he cried out in pain and begged for mercy. I DID indeed break free of his clumsily applied cradle.

    He found himself trapped in the corner as I punched and stomped and pounded him into the turnbuckle. I showed him MERCY by letting him have a water break. I mean, he IS a bit older, so he got winded a bit quicker. I wore him OUT, boys and girls. We were covered in each other's sweat and he was covered with the stink of defeat.

    After what felt like his 248th submission to me I was starting to feel the effects of the expenditure of energy that it had cost to put this blogger-bitch through the ringer of a BGEast-lite match that I dropped his body in a heap to the mat and strolled to the corner to recoup and get a breath.
    That's when the coward attacked from behind.

    HE HIT ME WITH A FUCKING WATER BOTTLE!!

    ...snickers...

    YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, D2! You know those fucking Aquafina bottles are thicker than a motherfucker. This wasn't one of those empty crinkly bottles from Tanisha Streams. This was a half full, thick ass 1-liter bottle of Aquafina!

    It threw me for a loop. I thought the motherfucker was done, but no, with that cheap shot he exposed himself for the dirty, cheating bastard he was.

    I grunted and rubbed my skull, and turned to face him and he splashed more water in my face and kicked me in the hip which drove me backfirst into the turnbuckle. I doubled up and stumbled forward only to be met with his own formidable thighs. He wrapped his arms around my waist, hoisted me up, and executed a stiff, sloppy piledriver that knocked me silly and probably could have broken my neck.

    He dragged me up and tossed me into the corner, where I slumped to a sitting position. I lay there gasping, my world spinning, wondering just what fucking hit me as my head rested on the lower turnbuckle. That's when he pressed his sole against my throat and strangled me to near unconsciousness as I thrashed and gasped for air.

    After a while he released me and I curled up, coughing and retching on the mat and then...I faceplanted as he snagged my ankle and dragged me midring, the canvas ripping out more than a few chest hairs on the way. From there he mounted me, his huge throbbing erection pressing between my ass cheeks and wrapped those big blogger biceps around my neck and head in a choking sleeper and yanked me up a bit in a modified camel so I was forced to stare at myself in the mirror as he choked me out.
 
    Had there been a fucking ref he would have been disqualified and the match would have been over, it wouldn't have gotten to this point...I would have won.

    I stared into my own eyes and his laughing face in the mirror's reflection. I don't know how long it was that I woke up later midring, the lights were darker than I remembered. It was quieter. I coughed...and panicked. I couldn't breathe! I was smothering. I gagged...I had...lycra mouth? Somehow, my pink trunks that earned me my win against Ty Alexander were in my mouth.    

    I rolled out of the ring and stumbled around the complex, looking for our guest when I saw a folded up piece of paper on the lobby table. 

    It read:

                                     Thanks for the match, jobber boy. It was truly a pleasure
                                     to see everything. It was even more of a pleasure putting
                                     one of Kid Leopard's boys down for the count as well as
                                     making him wait on me hand and foot. I told you so, sweet        
                                     jobber.
                                                                                                                    - Bard
                                                                            P.S.
                                                                   Be a good boy and clean up the mats
                                                                   before you leave

    I crumpled it up and threw it in the wastebasket angrily.

    I honestly didn't know what had transpired until a few weeks later...there were pictures of me all over Bard's blog all Weekend at Bernie's...strung up in the ropes, hung in a tree of woe...his foot on my unconscious body as if he'd utterly trounced and owned me and then, for the next-to-last

humiliation, he stuffed my own trunks in my mouth and snapped pictures of me in such compromising positions.

    I called him, I texted him, I e-mailed him, the bitch didn't answer!

    It took a while but he responded to me all cocky and haughty as if he had just pulled off the upset of the century. Though I quickly reminded him exactly of what transpired in the ring...his tears, the begging...the mercy I showed him before he repaid my kindness with treachery...

    Not long after these events, there was a glowing review of my match with Jake Lowe (which won sexiest match of the year, by the way) and I was named Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month. He had tried to soothe my battered ego by giving me the highest honor on his blog (A/K/A he tried to hold back the tide of anger that his actions had raised). As if. Flattery only gets you so far with Drake Marcos.

    The blogger bitch knew he had fucked up. He knew he had gotten very, very lucky with that cheap shot and that if he had fought with HONOR that that match belonged to me. He knew (and still does) that I'm the better man. Wrestler>Blogger, every damn time. I'm trained in this shit, he's not. 

    But guess what, Bard? Next time you won't be so fortunate. It will be your stripped, beaten ass all over the net. An eye for eye...tit for tat...quid pro quo. This wrong needs righted.

    So what do you say? Drake v. Bard 2?

    Drake's hungry. 

    Drake wants revenge.

   

  

Waking up

Sooo...things have been all kinds of quiet over here...I doubt anybody reads this at all...but whatever...Tons of hot shit and new content is coming...trust.

On another note, since the SCOTUS is set to rule on Marriage Equality tomorrow, I decided to resurrect a few articles I wrote as a semi-series in hopes of landing a writing gig for a local gay rag and decided that the political climate was current enough that this would seem timely (despite being written about 2 months prior) so if you're looking for wrestling and all things Drake...stick around. If you're looking for political discourse (that's not too lofty and heavy-handed) take a gander....
 

The Origin of Attitudes (Apologies to Darwin)'

    I had great empathy for Obama when he came under fire for his then infamous quote about his "views on gay marriage are evolving" shortly before being "outed" by Uncle Joe and less than a year before the Democratic front-runner for the 2016 White House race, Hillary Clinton, made her own endorsement.

    Experience, time, education, and chance all work together to both form and change a person's feelings/opinions on different issues, especially ones as politically volatile as gay rights/marriage equality. Obama said his decision was partly informed by discussions at the dinner table with the First Lady and their daughters' confusion over same-sex parents being treated differently than so-called "traditional" families.

    We have witnessed the march towards full equality for LGBT persons grow in ridiculously great leaps and bounds during Obama's tenure. For example, in 2010 a poll showed support for marriage equality at a minority of 47% and then only three years later to an over ten-point increase to a 58% majority. We have seen an outpouring of support from outside our community in our political, personal, and organizational (NASCAR, Wal-Mart, NCAA) allies with the backlash ignited by the passing of numerous RFRAs (Religious Freedom Restoration Act) which are in various states of development all over the country (most famously, or rather infamously, in Indiana). The fact that the issue of marriage equality has recently gone before the Supreme Court also signals a huge shift in public opinion, that the time is now for it to become the law of the land.

    The "evolving opinions" on equality also hit another milestone just this past week when Obama announced a call to end "reparative therapy" which is designed to change an LGBT person's sexual orientation and/or gender identity. Oregon is expected to follow suit and become the third state to ban the "treatment." As far back as 1997, the American Psychiatric Association (which had also, in 1973 and 2012, declassifed homosexuality, gender identity/dysphoria, respectively, as mental disorders) warned of the emotional and mental risks associated with the practice of said therapy. Until recently the practice had continued unabated with groups such as the (now-defunct) Exodus International and even the office  of the husband of the once-presidential hopeful, Michele Bachmann.

    Here is but a small snapshot of how our country has "evolved" on gay rights issues in recent years:

    *2003: Supreme Court strike down anti-sodomy laws in Lawrence v Texas
    *Starting in 2008:  gay marriage bans state-by-state declared unconstitutional due to     states' constitutions' Equal Protection Clauses as well as laws recognizing marriages     performed out-of-state
    *2009: Congress passes the Matthew Shepard Act which penalizes hate crimes that are     motivated by a person's perceived sexuality or gender identity
    *2011: The end of Don't Ask, Don't Tell
    *2013: SCOTUS Declares Section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act as unconstitutional, Obama instructs the Department of Justice to stop defending it in court
    *2014: The Red Cross modifies the ban on gay blood donation from lifetime to one-    year deferral.   
    *2014: Obama signs executive order adding "sexual identity and gender identity" to         non-discrimination laws for federal employees
    *2015: The Bruce Jenner interview ratings bonanza with almost 17 million     people tuning in to watch him discuss his transition to positive reviews
    *2015: The passage by the House and Senate of Florida of adoption reform which puts     an end to the ban on adoption of children by gay couples. Gov. Scott has until June 30,     2015 to sign or veto the bill.

    Public attitude towards LGBT issues and marriage equality has completely flip-flopped in such a short time and come what may with the decision handed down by the Supreme Court in June, we are not going anywhere. We and our allies grow stronger every day, each defeat only strengthens and emboldens us. Our time has come and the world, like Obama, has evolved with us.

Where Things Went Sour (Blogger Run-In Part 2)

(NOTE: Italicized text in this post is written by D2. The bold...nothing more needs said)

The problem that often comes with being a Gemini is that there is a tendency to have two very different and distinct personalities. These personalities, for the most part, tend to coexist and get along in a mutual goal of survival. One takes over in a situation where a certain kind of...tact and skill is required and the other is forced to take a backseat until they are needed.

I get along with D2...for the most part, until he turns into a whiny little bitch who wants to just...get along and be friends with every god damn body like a little fucking puppy or something. I, on the other hand, prefer to face off with some prettyboys with the aim of busting them up.

And I prefer to step in when he needs to extricate himself from a sticky situation...which is what I'm doing now.

The hell you are!

The hell I am.
 
Aside from the salivating and gnashing of teeth Drake exhibited from the news that everyone's favorite wrestling blogger, Bard, was in town, I was excited. I would finally get to meet the man that both Drake and I had had many conversations with in the past two years on topics both wrestling and non-wrestling related (I'm a multifaceted individual).
 
Maybe it's just because of my stint in the service-industry  or the fact that I'm a good ol' humble midwestern boy but I love hosting people. I love making them feel at ease and will go out of my way to make sure that they enjoy themselves and get to see and experience something unique to my home.
If there's one thing I hate doing, it's falling short of someone's expectations. So, getting to meet "the man behind the abs" was at first a little intimidating. I wanted to live up to everything Drake had pumped us up to be in our written discourse. So, while all Drake wanted to do was take the ridiculously cute blogger to the arena and drag his ass all over the ring, I wanted to take him to experience the sites and sounds of BG East-South (eat your heart out, Kimye).
 
I took him to the house where so many of the sun room mat battles had taken place and where the meticulously assorted gear cache is kept. (Side note: I often imagine Ty sneaking into the gear room and spreading it all out and diving into it like Scrooge McDuck in the opening of Duck Tales. There's a lot of fucking gear.) We visited the pool where, not too long prior, the BG Brat Pack (Kayden, Skrapper, Trey, Ty, Mason, and Drake) put on the hottest Wet N' Wild match to date. I gave him a tour of the grounds where so many of our beautiful outdoor portraits are taken...It's not only a wrestling paradise, It's a little slice of paradise by all definitions.
 
I also treated Bard to breakfast at a nearby restaurant that have fueled the wrestlers for the grueling shoot days where they're slated to face numerous challengers both local and away. We also visited a laid-back bar that has been the site of some off-screen BG hijinks involving ridiculously rock-bottom priced Long Island Iced Teas.
 
That's where he slipped me the roofie.
 
Well, I can't attest to that. We finished our drinks which, like at breakfast, I picked up the tab, determined to make this an amazing experience and introduction to BG's south campus for my favorite blogger. After showing him the ring and mat rooms, we sat down in the lobby to talk and shoot the shit some more about everything, like normal, which he graciously agreed to not share the intimate behind-the-scenes "dish" on Neverland.

At this point, Drake was (and currently IS!) getting antsy wh-

DAMN RIGHT I'M GETTING ANTSY! We were at the fucking arena! We were a hair's breadth away from both the mats and the ring. I don't give a fuck how many goddamn pictures he wanted to take and how many little mental wank fantasies he wanted to live out. We were at the arena and I wanted to fight.

So after, I began to worm my way back into the day's activities I decided to take over and cut the shit and call this stupid-cute blogger out...

"So all that talk about us wrestling...was that just talk or are we actually going to wrestle?"

To be continued
(Really?!)





  
:)

Where things went sour... (Blogger Run-in Part 1)

Approximately two years ago, around the time that I was wrapping up my time with HBWL/B&S (RIP), I was approached by Big Daddy BG Kid Leopard with yet another invitation to start wrestling for BG East. I of course jumped at the chance. On the day that I was set to return to the real world and my life outside of BGEast, a group picture of me sandwiched between Blaine Janus and Red Baron popped up on a blog that I had occasionally (ok, frequently) enjoyed.

This blog had the ability to push my buttons, to turn me on and titillate me with hot pictures and commentary on homoerotic wrestling releases from various companies (including, of course, WHAT ELSE?! my personal favorite: BG East.) I was often entranced at the skill of this wordsmith who knew exactly just what to say to encourage me to put my dick away and whip out my credit card and buy whatever he was hocking. (Notice my use of the word "had")

My mind buzzing with the compliments (albeit the disparaging ones about me needing fashion advice from Skip Vance? Pfft! I did win a Fashion Friday all on my own) from this blogger, I reached out with a particularly gushing email (that I thought would be discarded as a troll email) that said, with all the subtleties I possess, "OMFG! That's ME!"

A rapport was built. We traded many e-mails and built, what I thought at the time, was a friendship. I tend to be nice to my fans. He would prop me up and soothe my bruised ego when I hit one of the many speed bumps on my way to my first win over Ty "Jizzslapped" Alexander.

I had a match with Mason Brooks which, next to my near-fatal run in with Jonny Firestorm, is  my most frustrating on-camera loss to date. Bard was so entranced by the entire DVD (Passion and Punishment Drake vs Mason, Skrapper vs Dixon, Lauden vs Axel) that he reached out to Mason and me for a 3-way interview. I readily accepted because, you know, that's what friends do.

And that's when the beautifully constructed house of cards came crashing down.

Around the midway mark, I noticed that Bard had quite the hard-on for my costar. He was a little too chummy. A little too deferential to the "magical nipples" of Mason Brooks and a little too flippant and dismissive of what was my, admittedly, lopsided win-loss record. He started bandying a word about like it was no big deal.

He kept calling me a "jobber".

But he always did it in a way that he obliviously thinks was complimentary or nice. Stuff like "handsome jobber" or "suffers prettily." I'm obviously paraphrasing here, but the point is, he thought that by playing to my vanity, I would stop listening and bask in the compliment and ignore the insult that was tacked on to it. Nuh uh. No way.

My ire towards my once favorite blogger continued to grow as he continued to joke about calling me a jobber. Like he hadn't just kicked sand in my face.

And then Christmas time came around and I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. I sent him a Christmas card, with some sexy pictures, wishing him a merry Christmas, inciting people to visit BOTH of our blogs. And I promised him an ass-kicking in a pear tree, or something.

He continued to taunt me from the safety of a huge geographical distance and play keyboard warrior, saying he was going to give me a beatdown with Mason as referee. Nope.

Months went by, barbs were continually exchanged and then, I found out that he would be in vicinity of the BG ring...perfect. Time to cash in that IOU.

And then fucking D2 had to step in.

To be continued

real quick...5 minutes like

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Thanks...new month...new start

Thanks for taking that little trip with me through the cinephile part of me. I hope that my reviews of the films did two things, 1) Didn't give too much away and 2.) Interested you enough to seek them out.

If not, I'm sure that you can dig their full stories (including the secrets and plot twists) up in some place on the web, it's not that hard. But Jesus, exercise your brains people.

We live in a world where it's all bright and flashy and quick. We live in a world where people seek quick, instant gratification. Where the value of somethi-IURK! Letth go! Ughh you dirty bastard...

Shh, shh... go to sleep boy...shut your bleeding heart, ever-running

mouth. Yes, that's it...relax...let your eyes roll back...you like sleepers, yeah? Shh, shh...
And there we go...he's out.

Whew, I thought that would NEVER end!

Now...who's ready to get back in the ring or even maybe...the mats?

Coming soon: The Kiss Part 4: A whole new world 

#1 장화, 홍련 / A Tale of Two Sisters

So, here is the moment that all of you have been waiting for...the big Halloween reveal of my #1 horror movie of the season...but before I continue...I'd like to point out a few things...

When I embarked on this little, experimental journey I thought no one would find it of interest, but oddly enough, two fans came forward (one through global and one through email) telling me that they, firstly, enjoyed my BGEast work, and secondly, were loving the work I was doing on my blog, especially the horror movie countdown. This was news to me as I thought that, if anything, these reviews were a cathartic exercise for me and were challenging me to get in the habit of writing more often.

I was even more surprised to find that my review of The Ghost is now the highest viewed entry of this blog, while I'm shocked at this since movie reviews are not the focus of the blog (do I even have a main focus? No you don't) I feel somewhat...vindicated...

But alas, this is the end of the series (for now), I plan on bringing it back every year with a different batch of obscure, underrated, forgotten, and older horror movies (this year's choices stretched all the way back to 1990!) I may drop a review here and there but this is purely a seasonal thing, so if it wasn't your bag, I get it. Start your own damn blog.

My picks for the order of the ranked movies was not based on personal preference, beyond grabbing them out of my DVD book, because one common theme in this series was, "I don't remember what I felt about these movies beyond remembering maybe liking them." Another common theme is a little more subtle (not to mention  purely coincidental) and you'll get big kudos if you email or comment here telling me the prevailing theme that these movies shared...I'm looking for one word here.

The order of these movies was dependent upon their respective RT ratings (my favorite website), if there was not an official score, I went with the audience rating. Judging by the long-windedness of their reviews, I liked these movies a lot more than most people.

I fell behind a few times and I admit that I'm racing the clock and trying not to sacrifice quality and giving tonight's movie its due (because it didn't earn my top spot for no reason) even now.

Then get on with it! Noone wants to hear about how clever you think you are, you pretentious twat...that's my job!

Sigh, fine then, Drake...

Most people view movies for purely escapist reasons, my reasons stretch a little further. I want a story that challenges me to think, that makes me question things. I also watch a movie for who directed it, who wrote it, who's starring in it. This often irritates my friends because, in the same way, I rarely watch trailers (trailers always play as a greatest hits reel). If I hear about a movie with a great premise, or I hear who's attached to the project, I ignore reviews, trailers, everything and just go see it. So when I invite friends out to a movie, their first question is, "What's that about?" And my answer goes something like, "I dunno, but I wanna see it."

Tonight's film comes by way of South Korea, again. I can't help it! These people are fucking beautiful and moody as hell!

 A Tale of Two Sisters / Janghwa, Hongryeon

Su-mi, a young girl, meets a doctor in a sterile room, alone with the one man who holds her fate in his hands...for now. He tries to coax her to remember why she's in this hospital, to remember what put her under his care. Her eyes are downcast and her lips unmoving, silent, near catatonic.

The timeline is a bit confusing, we don't know how long Su-mi has been in the hospital but she's finally getting to go home to move back in with her father and her sister, Su-yeon. A bit of a surprise is waiting for her as her widower father has moved his girlfriend, Eun-joo, in as well. It is clear from the chemistry between Su-mi and Eun-joo that they have history and haven't got along.

Discussions bounce back and forth between Su-mi and Su-yeon as we come to learn that their mother died a while back and that Eun-joo is apparently their stepmother. Eun-joo, when the girls' father is not around, tries to assert her new maternal authority, both girls balking; Su-mi more openly defiant, and Su-yeon a timid mouse that fears Eun-joo.

One night, Su-mi notices that Su-yeon is acting weird and soon makes the girl spill whats going on and gets a look at the bruises on her arms. Su-mi becomes convinced that, in her absence, Eun-joo began abusing Su-yeon and begins plotting ways to make the woman leave so that they can get back to some semblance of a happy family life.

As time goes on, Su-mi and Su-yeon, laboring under the scary power trip that Eun-joo has gone on, begin to see apparitions in the house. The house seemingly coming to life and frightening them... a woman crawling through their bedroom at night (the first time I watched this film, this scene in particular caused me to start shaking in fear, terrifying me so much that I was forced to shut off the film and come back to at a later time), visions of a skinless humanoid form screaming with the voice of an infant and reaching out from beneath the blankets for them.

This movie unfolds slowly, beautifully, with subtle clues leading to the climax when all (well, most) is explained. Why the haunting? What is Su-mi so pissed about? Why is their mother dead? How? Why won't their father step in?

Su-mi goes to her father complaining about the mysterious goings-on in their home and complaining about "that woman you brought home."  Her father brushes her off, suggesting that maybe Su-mi has not healed from the earlier trauma, that maybe she's having trouble adjusting, and needs a little more time away.

Su-mi feeling alone in her battle, as if she and her sister are the only ones seeing what's going on, withdraws into herself and spends more time with Su-yeon.

One morning Eun-joo comes into Su-yeon's room in a rage screaming at her asking her what she's done. We are left floundering, confused with Su-yeon and Eun-joo loses her shit, demanding Su-yeon get out of bed. Eun-joo eyes a weird abnormality in Su-yeon's bed. Yanking the covers back, she finds the bloody form of her best friend, a pet bird, in Su-yeon's mattress.

Flying into an even bigger rage she throws Su-yeon into her wardrobe, locking her in as she screams and struggles, trapped in the dark, fighting to get free. Eun-joo tortures her, forcing her to confess to the murder of the bird and apologize before she frees her. Su-yeon finally acquiesces and Eun-joo opens the door, demanding that she stop crying and apologize again. Before Su-yeon can catch her breath and comply, she is soon shut up in the tight, dark wardrobe again.

And that's probably all that happens in the first half and doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of just what this fabulous piece of cinema is really all about. It's an intricately-woven story that reveals just enough along the way to give you have the information you need to merely follow the story, not revealing the bigger picture until it's time. And Jesus it is unveiled in grand fashion.

This film is quiet, even in its dark, intensely scary moments, punctuated by very brief musical stingers. I've already mentioned the climbing-into-bed scene, but there's other moments, like the dinner party, where Eun-joo reminds her brother, Sun-kyu, of stories in hysterical fashion only for him to rebuff her by saying he doesn't remember anything of what she's relayed. Sun-kyu's wife soon has a massive freak out, nearly seizing on the floor for unknown reasons.

A few minutes later we're treated to just what caused her fit as Eun-joo bends down to pick up a hair pin. This scene one of the many stand outs in the film as the suspense builds and builds, the director teasing you because you know the jump-scare is coming, right about... here? Oh, I guess it's not going to... HOLY SHIT!!! I've seen this film countless times and the aforementioned experience was what I had on this viewing. It's the horror movie equivalent of edging, and Jesus Christ, the payoff is gratifying.

The setting of the isolated countryside of South Korea is breathtaking, looking as if the story is taking place in early-to-mid fall. The girls comfortable enough to wear breathable clothing and swirl their feet in the lake as they reunite on the dock, the tall grass blowing in the wind having turned to browns and yellows.

The music is sparse, instead letting the images and story lend gravity to this tale (which is based on a Korean folk-tale which is pretty fucked up in its own right) drawing you in with only tastes of what's to come.

I like how intentional the pacing of the film is, it's as if we're watching the spontaneous creation of something. Just for the sake of illustration, let's say we're sitting and watching Da Vinci paint the Last Supper, he just picking up a brush as inspiration hits him and going with it (despite Dan Brown's theories) the big picture being revealed to him at the same time it is being revealed to us. We're watching a masterpiece being brought to life, our reactions breathing into an inanimate object the breath of life.

We watch Su-mi and Eun-joo battle it out, psychologically (who do you trust? The daughter sent away for being sick or your new blushing bride?) and eventually physically, Eun-joo asking "How did we get ourselves to this point?" as she holds a statuette over Su-mi's head. It's a dazzlingly beautiful display of violence, the blood not so much shocking as it is necessary, to punctuate just how mortal and serious this is. One of the women is seen beating a bulging, bloodied bag with a fireplace poker (another iconic scene, for me anyways).

As the story draws to a close, an unexpected visitor's arrival pulls the thread out of this beautiful tapestry and pulls the curtain back on the story, revealing what we just witnessed, connecting the pieces we were given and the film's true story is exposed to the light.

While not as draining on the heart as Jacob's Ladder was, A Tale of Two Sisters is heartbreaking and bleak. It is a masterpiece of filmmaking from any country. Its power in the fact that it's one of the first SoKo movies to be screened in cinemas across the US.

It eventually influenced an English-language remake which tweaked the story in some big ways but still kept the tone and plot similar enough to satisfy me, but streamlining it so its horror elements were more up front for American audiences (as opposed to asian horror movies' dedication to letting the horror creep just out of frame or focus and closing in on you from the peripheral, subconscious before it's too late.)

Janghwa, Hongryeon is a triumph of sorts and is criminally underseen. Do yourself a favor and track down a copy.