The Book of Fish

The Book of Fish serves as a profound epitome of East Asian society teetering on the edge of modern revolutions.

For thousands of years, Confucianism profoundly shaped East Asian countries. However, by the early 19th century, its teachings had become hypocritical, functioning more as a tool for intellectuals to ascend the social ladder than as practical principles guiding daily life. The core of Confucianism, which aimed to create and maintain social order to preserve the monarchy, had grown obsolete and cumbersome in an era shaped by Western influence. It no longer adapted to the rapid changes ushered in by external forces.

Cultural inertia proved a powerful barrier to internal reform. This attempt to change is reflected in the protagonist's turn towards Western ideas, including Christianity, as a means to transform the society he inhabits-perhaps not intentionally, but as an act of desperation. His fate, exile at the hands of the ruling class, illustrates the threat his ideas posed to the monarchy. The young fisherman symbolizes the idealists of the time, deeply committed to the core values of Confucianism, who sought to serve their country with these principles. Yet when he finally reaches the goals he strived for, he finds his beliefs dismissed and treated as mere folly by the so-called elites.

This experience forces him to recall his teacher's words about the possibility of a country without a king, a society without rigid class hierarchies. Initially, he was strongly opposed to such notions due to his unwavering faith in Confucian ideals. But this moment becomes his epiphany, revealing the stark truth of his time.

This film resonates deeply with the complicated emotions East Asians still feel about their cultural heritage, particularly Confucianism. The struggles portrayed are not confined to history-they remain relevant today. It may take generations to fully confront and overcome the weight of such traditions.

When a country used philosophy to strengthen its control; when an ordinary person poured his efforts just in order to enter the ruing class and survive; when the ruling class disdain wisdom and philosophy and contempt the disadvantaged. This sort of country was appalling. People couldn't see the sun but just darkness, couldn't get education but be imposed to submit heavy taxes. However, there were some little stars glistening in the darkness, those people were so brave and desperately fearless that they fought with hypocrisy and viciousness.

Moreover, I really appreciated this film because it clearly demonstrates the influence of Confucian culture and its disadvantages when it' s used as a ruling tool. It also explains indirectly that Confucian culture is, in fact, neo-confucianism which was just forwarded to help emperor to unify people's minds and control them.

Anyway, this film gave me a resonance and epiphany.

"Furthermore, had the script put more emphasis on the differences between Yak-jeon and his equally, if not more, famous brother Yak-yong (Ryu, pitifully underutilized), who was a distinguished scholar and also exiled for 18 years in a remote area, the film would've hit the mother lode of philosophical discourse and oriental sophistication, instead, hijacked by Chang-dae's school of hard knocks, Yak-yong's side of story tends to be perceived as too cerebral to possess any import, which, in fact, does a disservice to Yak-jeon's left-field decision of writing a book about fish. Finding more purpose in dedicating himself to a non-human world than to a human society is Yak-jeon's most radical rebellion, in spite of his advocacy of embracing all different schools of thoughts, he cannot slough off the rancor that turns him into a cynic, compared to Yak-yong's humanism blooming against adversity, Yak-jeon is a less heroic figure in this regard, his book is, give or take, his act of petty revenge, plus the film never cares to show there is any affinity between Yak-jeon and his marine objects."

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