Having been utterly charmed by all things Korean, particularly
their film exports courtesy of a film studies course I took in school
this semester, an anticipatory mood accompanied me into the theatre. The
credible actors who always happen to be good-looking, svelte actresses
who possess curves and personality, a story that either leaves me stunned
for its strategic intelligence (think Park Chan-Wook's Vengeance Trilogy)
or in tears (200-pound Beauty) always does its job of leaving me
more besotted than before. Comparatively then, Sex is Zero 2, was
at the bottom of the food chain.

Here's what happens. Law student Eun-sik breaks up with
his girlfriend; subsequently, the forlorn and grief-stricken young man
checks himself into an asylum to expedite the emotional recovery process.
There, he meets star swimmer Keong-ah, played by the doe-eye Song Ji-hyo,
who you probably last saw in Princess Hours as the ballet dancer. Yup,
the one who refused to believe that she let the gem of a prince slip pass
her fingers, and who attempts to win him back. But I digress. After Eun-sik
meets the second love of his life, the rest of the movie was a trudge
through two hours of sigh-when-is-this-going-to-end locker room humour,
which I so do not appreciate. I was also educated on the various ways
to get a lady into bed; because, of course, no sex in a relationship condemns
you into the world of impotence and antiquated beliefs. Fortunately or
not, I did not watch the first installment of the show, but a Google check
tells me that it sold four million tickets in 2002, earning it a number
five place in Korea's movie charts that year. I suppose I could be more
forgiving, part two does have big shoes to fill.

Nonetheless, objectively speaking, there were periodic guffaws
from the rest of the audience, who obviously knew how to appreciate the
film for what it was worth. Eun-sik tries like mad to untie Keong-ah's
invisible chastity belt because his inability to do so has become the
butt of jokes amongst his friends from the four-man martial arts CCA he
is in, and, let's be honest, he is horny. His sympathetic friends try
to help him, but always manage to land him in misunderstanding after misunderstanding.
One time, he ends up in the police station after a raid at a brothel;
another time, Keong-ah catches him in the middle of what she thought was
an orgy. Despite the clumsy handling of story development, Eun-sik's boyish
attempts to win Keong-ah to bed was more "awwww" then "which
part of no do you not understand". The most delicious bit comes in
the shape and size of Gi-joo (Lee Sang-yoon), a tall and suave prosecutor,
who enters the picture to vie for Keong-ah's love. Despite the support
from Keong-ah's mother and myself, who was rooting for Gi-joo to win the
war of romance, Keong-ah stands by her one true love, which is probably
the only saving grace of the show; love is a tried-and-tested formula
that always scores.

Apart from Eun-sik's romance, the rest of his team-mates
proceed to get romantically and physically intimate with the girls from
the swim team. What follows is plenty of copulation and orgasmic moments,
but there's a fine line between what is 'nicely done' and 'plain gross';
some parts of the movie, I could not distinguish which was which anymore.
This Korean version of American Pie has all the good stuff swimming murkily
somewhere between the dialogue, hidden in the complicated web of relationships.
Unfortunately, the mayhem of four relationships and affairs simultaneously
overshadowed any memorable bits. The funny bits were the ha-ha types,
laughs that never quite reach the stomach, the kind that stops being funny
the moment you step out of the cinema; but well, entertainment is entertainment,
and if I stick to that expectation, I suppose Sex is Zero 2 will
do.