The King’s Warden review – a lively Korean period drama where a deposed king takes refuge in the 15th century | film

IThe Korean equivalent of an SEZ in the 15th century appears to have been a royal court official exiled to a remote backwater, with all the attendant wealth and comforts that came with them. That’s the hook of this lively historical piece, as village leader Um Heung-do (Yoo Hae-jin) wanders into a nearby settlement and — due to the former Minister of Justice being on the property — is surprised to find the place filled with delicious sweets.

Wanting a piece of the action, Heung-do bids on the evil government official Han Myeong-hoe (Oldboy’s Yoo Ji-tae) for his own outcast. But a pasty-faced young man shows up on a stretcher, and turns out to be a much bigger fish than the elder can handle: the child is the recently deposed King Yi Hongwei (played by K-pop singer Park Ji-hoon), and he’s too obvious to be publicly bumped off like the rest of his entourage. Preparing for a counter-rebellion, Heung-do realizes that his new wing is likely to bring more problems than good.

Early on, The King’s Warden flirts with being an Ealing-style satirical comedy about the price of upward mobility, with the smiling chieftain raised by his own ambition (the village headman he’s courting turns up to sarcastically congratulate him). But once the identity of the guest is revealed, director Jang Hang-jun changes tack and quickly moves through other, less exciting genres: a sentimental duet, similar to Mrs. Brown, about the growing relationship between the king and the common people; pious social commentary on inequality; An intense political thriller, as the king finds his courage and supports the fight.

This scattered parable, somewhat disjointedly put together, doesn’t extract subversive political impact as well as the Joseon court drama Masquerade from 2012. Nor does it muster the emotional momentum needed to sell the tear-jerking ending in which Heung-do puts it all on the line for his noble friend (in real life, the pair are buried together). That it works at all is down to a high-energy but nuanced performance from Hae-jin: an initial tour de force in chatty desperation underpinned by Heung-do’s concern for his fellow serfs, and masking an integrity that becomes crucial.