"Love Means Never Having To Say You're Sorry," is the tagline from the classic Love Story. It's true, really: love is a fascinating creature. It makes us do crazy things. We make asses out of ourselves, we laugh, we cry, we commit suicide, we get married, we have children, we put ourselves (and usually the objects of our affections) through hell...it brings out the complete insanity that is latent in every human being's psyche. Most "love" movies are blissfully fantastic: if we stood outside our girlfriend's house blasting "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel, we'd get our skulls smashed by overzealous cops. Hell, are there really any hookers that look quite as good as Julia Roberts that would agree to marry you, as opposed to just giving you seven strains of chlamydia and a burning sensation when you pee?

I have yet to see too many movies that truly convey the truly insane nature of love. Sure, I doubt that a movie where Meg Ryan spends 90 minutes carving her obsession's name into her arm and typing poorly constructed poems about it on her Livejournal would sell (although I would certainly buy a ticket), but it would be nice to see something that shows that sometimes, love just ain't pretty. Enter Bad Guy, Kim Ki-Duk's love story that beats Cupid with a tire iron and leaves him for dead in a grimy alleyway. It is most certainly not a traditional "love story," but it just seems to make so much more sense than sugary pap like Serendipity (at least to cynical bastards like me).

Han-ki, a near-mute thug, spies the beautiful Sun-hwa in a park one day. Unable to resist, he shows his desire by forcing his tongue into her mouth. After receiving a thorough beating from her boyfriend (aided by a cadre of Korean soldiers), his battered body is held up in front of her to deliver an apology for his actions. Refusing, Sun-hwa spits on him and walks away, driving the spike of obsession deeper into his brain. Following her, he finds out she is not nearly the pure collegiate co-ed she makes herself out to be: she tears an erotic painting out of a book. Spying opportunity, Han-ki and his two goons hatch a plan to frame her for the theft of a businessman's wallet, forcing her into a loan where her body is the collateral. Unable to pay back the money (especially since she never stole it in the first place), she is forced into sexual servitude at Han-ki's brothel. There, Han-ki watches her constant humiliation at the hands of a parade of cruel Johns from behind a two-way mirror. He is receiving his retribution for her actions against him, yet every chance she gets to escape she comes crawling back to her new life, and her love for the man who has ruined her.

Doesn't quite sound like a love story, does it? Most certainly not by normal standards, but if you peel back the layers of exploitative sleaze (of which there are plenty), there is one of the deepest, most heartfelt visions of love ever committed to film. About two-thirds of the way through the movie, it hit me like a truck: just because the love they have for one another is unconventional, does that render it invalid? Sure, there are some truly wrenching images that would melt even the stoniest of hearts, such as Han-ki secretly kissing the emotionally drained Sun-hwa on the cheek through the mirror on which she is resting her sobbing face, or Han-ki dragging Sun-hwa back to her room in the brothel only to hold her quietly, but the rest of the movie is the filmed equivalent of the punch in the stomach when you find out there's no Santa Claus. It chews you up and spits you out countless times over its 100-minute running time. By the end of the movie, I felt completely drained.

But it's a good kind of drained. Kim Ki-Duk picks at the scabs that have formed over our wounded hearts, letting them bleed again. As much as many people may shriek at Bad Guy's blatant misogyny or implausible concept (can one really get a loan that legally binds them into prostitution?), they're missing the point: these are only the layers of discomfort that one has to dig through to find out that, at its core, Bad Guy has a beauty underneath all that nastiness. Ki-Duk paints his red light district of Seoul in a muted palette, leaving us focusing on the characters, especially Sun-hwa, who about halfway through the film is wearing candy-colored wigs in order to lure in johns. It's a perverse parody of a butterfly being borne out of its cocoon, except a creature of innocent beauty metamorphoses into a common street whore. But then again, is she being forced into her state, or has she truly found her niche, doing whatever it takes to stay true to her beloved?

Life Size Entertainment knocks us on our asses doubly strong by backing up this thoroughly phenomenal movie film with a rock solid presentation. Picture quality was thoroughly amazing, with smooth, vibrant colors (especially Sun-hwa's aforementioned Fantana-esque get ups) and virtually no artifacts or grain. One or two major specks of print damage popped up, but they were so brief and infrequent that one can easily forgive. Audio was clean with sparing surround usage, and the movie's phenomenal soundtrack (including a stunning song that sounded like a Portishead b-side) was full and bold. Extras include a behind-the-scenes featurette, an interview with Kim Ki-Duk, photo montages set to the film's soundtrack, and the original theatrical trailer.

You've never seen a love story quite like Bad Guy. It will take even the most hopeful, rose-glassed go-getter out there and reduce them to a cynical, hopeless rube. You certainly won't want to watch it with the one you love (unless they're really cool), but boy oh boy, will you need a good cuddle with them afterwards.

And maybe a slice of peach pie if you're lucky, right Greg?